The Past Can Come Back to Haunt You
by Ardeth Saunders
Summary: Loralei and Frank Donovan are happily married newlyweds who become victims of a stalker. Who is this ghost that has come back to haunt Donovan? Who appears out of the blue to destroy his happiness?
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER:  _UC:  Undercover _and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC, yadda yadda yadda.  However, the author would like to borrow several cast members [the author promises to give them back, well, maybe not ALL of them] for a few pages!  There is absolutely NO infringement intended.  All other characters belong solely to the author.**

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PROLOGUE

A young woman sat comfortable and secure in her small room.  There wasn't much light, just a small lamp at her tiny desk.  It was enough for her purpose.  She made it a habit to read the newspaper every day, even though it could be incredibly depressing.  The serious news stories never failed to haunt her.  Yet, she found happiness in the depths of the thick paper.  Almost every day, she found herself turning the pages to the entertainment section.  Often, she perused the society pages, and she _never_ missed the wedding announcements.  The wedding announcements were like her escape from reality.  She fantasized about being married and having a huge wedding with hundreds of guests.  As she gazed around her room, she knew that would never be possible.

*  *  *

Years ago when she was someone else, she had lived with a man she had really and truly loved.  She would have died for him if he had requested that of her.  At the time, he was quite young and ambitious.  She had met him in college at the library.  Being such a conscientious student, she spent a lot of time in the library.  When she was there, it seemed that this particular young man was there at the same time.  She figured that he was a serious student, since he spent most of his time with his nose stuck in a book.  Back then, he struck a handsome figure; he was everything she had ever wanted in a man.  She couldn't recall how many days she had sat and stared at him before making her move.

She wasn't bold enough to simply walk up and introduce herself, but she had other ways of meeting handsome strangers.  She moved away from her quiet table in the corner, and walked around to where he sat taking notes from one of a dozen books beside him.  Accidentally on purpose, she dropped a book almost perfectly beside his foot.  _SLAP_.  He had been so absorbed in his work that he literally jumped.  He turned toward her and fixed a beautiful pair of eyes on her face.  She had seen her fair share of gorgeous eyes, but his overshadowed them all.  She remembered giggling with embarrassment and trying to fumble though an awkward apology.  He stood up fully before her, tall and lean.  _Oh wow_, she thought, _I've never seen someone so damn gorgeous as he_.  He smiled at her [his smile could have melted an iceberg] and told her with a silky voice that it wasn't necessary for her to apologize.  He then kneeled down and picked up her book.  When she took it from his large hand, her fingers brushed against his, and she thought she might die. 

As he stood again, she awkwardly introduced herself, and he did the same.  She knew she would either have to ask him out or simply forget the whole deal.  She had three exams the next day and needed to get back to her studying.  Before she could speak one word, he asked her to accompany him to a coffee shop a few blocks from campus.  With her heart pounding hard in her chest, she quickly forgot about her exams and accepted his invitation without a moment's hesitation.

They stayed at the coffee shop for a good three hours, and by the time they finally left, she was convinced he was the man she was destined to marry.  After that first night, they met at the coffee shop regularly, not even aware that what they were doing was 'dating.'  After a couple of weeks, she took her first bold step and asked him over for dinner at her place.  He accepted readily enough.  He hadn't exactly said so, but he was quite infatuated with her.  Not normally attracted to timid girls, he found himself unable to get her out of his mind.  She was easy to talk to and had actually helped occupy his mind with something besides his studies.  He wasn't exactly the celibate sort, but he hadn't dated anyone steadily in a few months.  Her company was a welcome break from his regular routine.  Plus, he was lonely, but hadn't realized it until they had begun meeting for coffee.

The two of them had dinner, and he had totally let his guard down with her.  They talked for hours, hardly touching their food, but they drank copious amounts of wine.  By dawn, he was a little drunk, and she wouldn't let him leave.  He was relieved, because he was in no condition to drive back to his apartment.  Eventually, one thing led to another, and they ended up in bed.  He wasn't one to let himself go like that, but he had no regrets.  From that night on, they became quite the 'item' on campus.  

His mistake was asking her to move in with him.  She was ecstatic, of course.  She had fallen very deeply in love with him, and figured the next step would be a walk down the aisle.  After moving her things into his apartment, she began buying bridal magazines.  Of course, he had seen them, but didn't necessarily attach any significance to it.  His stubborn stupidity to see the 'real' her had been a move worse than asking her to move in.  At first, he had been perfectly happy.  However, within a few weeks, his infatuation grew to annoyance.  His live-in love had begun to cling to him.  She wanted to know his every move, to go with him wherever he went [including the bathroom].  He hardly had one moment to himself, even to study.  It seemed as if she had become obsessed with him.  She had thought that she was giving him exactly what he wanted.  When he tried to talk to her about it, she would cry, and he would relent, allowing her to slip back into her obsessive need to please him.  He didn't have the guts to put a stop to it.

The breaking point occurred when his grades began to slip.  His education was an aspect of his life that could not suffer.  Finally working up his courage, he sat down with her under the guise of 'needing to talk.'  When she heard those words, she was certain he was about to propose.  Of course, his 'talk' had little to do with marriage.  He wanted her to move out, to 'cool down' their relationship so he could regain control over his life again.  His requests were simple, rational, and well thought out.  Of course, she didn't take it exactly as he expected.  He wasn't a total bastard and he expected her to be hurt.  Hell, _he_ was hurt, but there was no other way to go about it.  She didn't say much.  Instead, she quietly went to the bedroom and began to pack up her things.  Without a word, she walked out the door and left the apartment building behind.  He watched from his window as she made her way down the sidewalk and around the corner.  He felt like a bastard and was depressed enough to get falling down standing up drunk.

She didn't have anywhere to go, so she checked into a nearby hotel.  She had loved this man heart and soul.  She couldn't stand the thought of not being in his life any longer.  As she sat in her sparsely furnished hotel room, she gazed down at a picture of him taken when he still wanted her around.  He was smiling his sexy smile.  She couldn't believe it was over, couldn't understand what had gone wrong.  She had given him everything he wanted, and he apparently hadn't appreciated anything she did.  He had probably found another girl, one prettier or better in bed.  The man she had loved so dearly was one she now hated more than life itself.  She tore the picture into tiny pieces.  She took the pieces and threw them into an ashtray.  With her lighter, she lit the pieces aflame.  Smiling, she watched the pieces burn until they became nothing more than ash.  From then on, she decided she would never have any use for men, especially those similar in body type and coloring as her former lover.

Something broke inside her, some fine little branch of sanity had snapped.  Two days later, she had tried to kill him.  It was a simple plan, one that she hadn't thought out well, but one that would end this bastard's life, and perhaps end her suffering at the same time.  He did not deserve to live, especially not after dumping her when she had given him her heart and soul.  She rented a car and drove it to campus.  She knew his routine, knew his schedule better than her own.  She glanced at her watch and noticed that it was right at nine in the morning.  At any moment, he would stride across campus for his next class.  She waited patiently for her chance.  Suddenly, she saw him dart out of a building.  She pressed her foot down on the accelerator and drove right up on the sidewalk.  Dozens of students began screaming and running for cover.  The noise broke his concentration, and he stopped and turned toward the oncoming car.  It was headed straight for him.  He saw the figure of his ex-lover behind the wheel.  He dove behind a nearby statue.  Crazily, she followed right along and slammed the car into the gigantic likeness of the college's founder.

The seatbelt was the only thing that kept her alive, because the car was destroyed all around her.  He immediately came from out behind the statue and walked cautiously over to the car.  Her forehead was bleeding and she appeared to be unconscious.  As he heard the wails of sirens behind him, he went over to the destroyed wreck that had once been an automobile.  Clutched in her left hand was a page torn out of a bridal magazine.  His face was taped onto the 'groom,' and hers on the 'bride.'  

When the ambulance arrived, he was granted permission to accompany her to the hospital.  She was clearly disturbed, and the police weren't even sure if they would arrest her or take her for a psychological evaluation.  Regardless of that, he decided to visit her as soon as she was placed in a room.  It was around two in the morning before she was taken from the ER and admitted into the hospital.  Feeling more than responsible for what she had done, he entered her room with a heavy heart.  The moment she laid eyes on him, she began to scream and spit, clawing at her face and eyes, digging bloody furrows.  He was immediately shuttled out of the room.  He was not allowed to return again, and he was never told what happened to her after she left the hospital.  In his present life, he thought of her in passing, and a part of him would forever feel guilty for what she had suffered, for what he had put her through.

*  *  *

She began to read through the society page and quickly moved onto her favorite part of the paper.  Her eyes caught sight of her former lover's name.  She couldn't believe it.  He had married someone else.  Throughout it all, she maintained her obsessive love for him, but had never heard another word about him since she last saw him.  Today, right in front of her face, she was looking at his name, reading about his marriage, a wedding that should have been hers.  Somehow, some way, she would make them both suffer as she had.  They did not deserve to have the happiness that should have been hers.  This man was one _she _had loved, was one that should have married _her_.  She had always had a taste for exacting revenge, but right now, right at this moment, she was hell-bent to find a way to make _him_ pay, to make them _both_ pay.  She didn't care what it took or how many people had to die; this 'happily married' couple would know only pain and suffering.


	2. Exiting Heaven, Entering Hell

CHAPTER 1—EXITING HEAVEN, ENTERING HELL

If one were to have been standing in the living room of the Donovan's apartment, that person would have witnessed quite a scene.  The door opened from the outside in with a resounding bang.  If they were lucky, they wouldn't have to buy a new door in the morning.  However, they weren't necessarily concerned about the door.  It was probably fortieth on their list of priorities at that moment.  They entered the darkened apartment with every single body part entwined.  It was unclear how they even managed to get the door unlocked and open.  He spun her around, walking her in backwards, and she hoped she wouldn't trip over something and fall on her ass.  At heated times such as these, she was unforgivably clumsy.  _Wouldn't that be a lovely scene_, she thought as his insistent mouth refused to free hers.  Of course, she wasn't exactly fighting him away.  Finally making it inside the apartment, he kicked the door closed.  Another bang issued forth.  _I suppose the door will make it_, she thought.  After seemingly trying to suck the life out of her, he broke the kiss.  They gazed at each other almost comically, breathing heavily, as if they had ran for ten miles at a breakneck pace instead of sharing a passionate kiss.

She released her hold on his body long enough to glance at her wristwatch.  "I don't know why we're still doing this.  The honeymoon officially ended exactly two hours ago."

He smiled a little and glanced at his own watch.  "As I see it, _Mrs. Donovan_, it's not over until the sun rises."

"Well, _Mr. Donovan_, don't you have to get up in the morning?"

A wicked grin touched his lips.  "I'm already up," he said and lowered his head to nuzzle her throat.

"You sleazy, sleazy man," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly.  He had yet to see her eyes rolled in the back of her head, and she didn't want him to; he might think she was possessed.  "Be serious, baby, just for one second.  I _know _you have that ability."

He chuckled low in his throat.  "Perhaps I do, but _only _at work.  At home, it all goes to hell.  You should know that by now."

She slipped easily out of his embrace and stepped back.  His gaze never faltered.  Like a spoiled little boy, he stuck his lip out and pretended to pout.  She laughed and turned away from him.  She could not look at that unless she wanted to giggle herself silly.  She turned toward him and saw that he had kneeled before the door.  He was carefully picking up several pieces of mail that had been slid into the slot and had landed on the floor.  Some of the envelopes were crumpled looking where they had trampled them.  

His back turned to her, Loralei crossed her arms in front of her chest and gazed at him.  They needed to talk, but instead of speaking, she found herself daydreaming.  They had lived together an additional eight months before finally setting a wedding date.  She had needed time to clean up her affairs with her former place of employment.  Of course, she had resigned months ago, but there were several things left undone, including the Black Heart and her sensational trial.  Since she had been a 'victim' she was required to testify against the woman.  In some wicked twist of fate, the Black Heart was tried in Illinois.  She had apparently asked for it due to the state's stance on capital punishment.  The trial was a horrid experience, one that Loralei would not wish on her worse enemy.  It was then, and only then, that she had learned the Black Heart's real name:  Carly Butler.  Day after day, Loralei was forced to sit in a courtroom with the evil woman while 'Carly' sat and stared at both she and her fiancé as if she could eat them alive.  She wasn't pleased that Loralei had made it, that she had lived despite the serious injuries her body had sustained.  The black widow figured that Donovan had saved her life, and she hated them both equally.

Neither Loralei nor Donovan were surprised that Black Heart's [Loralei could never think of the woman as a harmless 'Carly'] attorney wanted to plead that she was not guilty by reason of insanity.  He spun a tall tale about the horrible abuse 'Carly' had suffered at the hands of her biological parents and the terrifying treatment she received from each dead husband.  According to the defense, 'Carly' was merely another 'victim,' and that she had had enough and simply 'broke.'  It was utter bullshit.  Everyone in the courtroom knew it, including the defendant.  It was difficult for Loralei to sit through the madness, but she refused to leave, regardless of Donovan's pleas that she not attend.  She insisted on being there when the woman went down.

After thousands of dollars, several hours of testimony, and fifteen different psychological evaluations, the defense had deemed 'Carly' insane.  To Loralei's horror, the Court agreed with them.  The Black Heart had eluded capital punishment.  It was the sentence she wanted, the one she likely deserved, but her slick lawyer had sweet-talked the entire jury.  The evil woman was committed to a state mental institution for the rest of her life.  The sentence made Loralei nervous.  She had nightmares about the Black Heart escaping and coming back to exact her revenge.  She wasn't afraid to die [hell, she _had_ died once], but she was afraid of losing Donovan.  The not-so-insane killer not only wanted Loralei dead, but she also wanted Donovan dead _and_ to have his head on a stick [literally].  Loralei knew this, could read it in the woman's eyes.  The thought of anything happening to her husband-to-be was unfathomable.  

Loralei wasn't the only person less than thrilled with Black Heart's sentence.  Donovan was utterly disgusted.  His worries were similar to Loralei's, but his concern centered on her.  He had lost her once, and would be hell-bent to ever allow her to slip away from him again.  He didn't like the idea that the cunning black widow was going to a mental hospital.  Those types of places weren't exactly easy to escape, but they weren't as secure as a death row cell in a super max prison.  The evil part of his brain came alive again, and for a very brief moment, he was tempted to jump her and wrap his hands around her giraffe-like neck.

When the circus ended on the last day of the trial, Loralei and Donovan returned home.  On the ride back, she hadn't said much; she hadn't felt like it.  She thought that if she opened her mouth, she might scream _herself_ into a mental institution.  He hadn't tried to talk to her about it; he didn't want to push.  She would open up when she was ready, but there was no way he would leave her alone.  She needed him, it was clear to him; she had said as much with her eyes.  However, the shock was quite evident, and he hoped that she would be okay.  He hated seeing her so distraught.

Loralei didn't let go until she entered the apartment and had the door closed behind her.  In a fascinated sort of awe mixed with shock, he stood back as she raised her head to the ceiling and let out a long, anguished wail.  He had never heard anything like it in his life.  The Black Heart's sentence was just as much of a punishment to Loralei as it was to the widow.  Loralei had sacrificed her career, had nearly lost her life to bring in the witch, but she had walked away with a bullshit sentence.  It was wrong, so wrong.

Donovan did the only thing he could.  He went to her and held her unyielding body in his arms until the typhoon passed.  It took a very long time for her to let it go.  She heard his whispers of 'it's over, it's done,' but it seemed as if it would _never_ be over.  Loralei's anger wasn't totally self-centered.  She had seen the family members of the murdered men.  She couldn't take the tears or the grief-stricken expressions on their faces.  She hoped to never attend another trial like that again in her life.  When the shock and anger began to dissipate, she collapsed into her fiancé's embrace and allowed him to comfort her.  This was one more hurdle she would have to jump.  Donovan's words were simple, but sage:  'don't let her win.'  After that day, she put the Black Heart to bed forever.  She had a life to lead and a wedding to plan.  She could not allow the crazed maniac known as 'Carly Butler' to ruin her happiness.  Loralei owed more debt to Donovan than she could ever repay in nine lifetimes.

"Loralei?  Are you okay?"

The soft words spoken by her husband brought her out of her coma-like daze.  "Yeah, babe.  I'm fine.  I was daydreaming, I suppose."  She fixed her eyes on the stack of mail in his hand.  "Damn, how can so much shit pile up in two weeks?"

She reached for the stack, but he held it back and set it aside.  "It will keep until tomorrow."  

He started toward her, to take her back into his arms, but she stepped aside.  "Screw that, Frank.  I'm expecting a letter."

He stood back and watched her with a small grin framing his lips.  After leaving the FBI several months ago, she decided she wanted to go back to school and [define irony] earn a Ph.D. in [what else] Criminal Justice.  She applied and was accepted at several area colleges, but the one university she wanted more than all others had yet to send her a letter of acceptance.  During their two-week honeymoon, she had literally driven him nuts fretting about the mail.  She reminded him of a junkie in need of a fix.  He watched as she thumbed through each letter meticulously, touching each one.  The next to the last letter was the one she had been waiting for.  She dropped the rest of the mail.

He gazed at her with a lifted eyebrow.  "So?"

"I'm afraid to look at it," she said nervously.  It was ridiculous of course.  She had waited so long to receive the letter, but now that she held it in her hands, she was afraid to open it.  If it were a rejection, she'd probably bang her head against the wall.

"Give me the damn thing," he said with amused annoyance.  He snatched the letter out of her hands and tore open the envelope.

Loralei watched as he skimmed over the letter.  _Damn him_.  She couldn't read his expression.  Like Cody, she sometimes wondered if he might be part machine.  _I suppose I'll eventually find out if that's true_, she thought.  "Don't just stand there.  _Tell me_."

He looked up at her with a stiff poker face.  "You're in if you want it."

"Oh my God," she spat.  "Are you joking?"

"Have you ever known me to joke?"  She squealed happily and threw her body into his arms, nearly knocking him down.  "Damn," he grunted, "if I had known you were going to try to kill me, I would have let you open your own letter."

During her crushing hug, he found his eyes wondering to the pile of mail she had discarded.  He focused his eyes on an oddly colored envelope.  He wasn't sure why it had caught his attention.  Perhaps it was due to the gaudy bright pink envelope.  He hadn't noticed it earlier when he picked up the stack of letters and bills.  When she released him, he approached the scattered mail and went straight to the neon pink distraction.  He glanced down at it and noticed that it had no return address, but the postmark deemed it local.  The handwriting was shaky, as if the writer had been trying to mask his/her true style.  The letters were in all caps and the envelope was addressed to 'Frankie and Lori Donovan.'  

Loralei stood back and watched Donovan curiously, wondering if he had, perhaps, lost his mind.  "Frank, what is it?"

He picked up the envelope and studied it carefully.  It was bizarre and a bit…unsettling.  Of course, a part of him wanted to believe it was some type of gag card sent from the team [which could very well be the case], but another part of him doubted it.  It was gaudy, yes, but mockingly so.  It wasn't anything remotely close to a good-natured tease.  He tore into the envelope and pulled out an equally gaudy greeting card.  A cartoon figure of a man stood amongst dozens of multi-colored balloons.  The cartoon fellow was grinning largely, grotesquely.  Above the hideous figure was one single word:  _Congratulations!  _He almost didn't open it.  For some odd reason, he was expecting something even more hideous than the outside of the card.  He opened it anyway.  Written across the length of the card in large block lettering was:  _Look for me.  I'll be seeing you soon_.  

"Frank?  _What is it_," Loralei demanded as she approached him.  

She took hold of his arm and moved his body aside.  It wasn't an easy task.  He didn't want her to see this, to wrack her nerves after she had been so happy and worry-free for the last eight months.  Of course, there was truly no way he could shield her from it.  If she didn't see it now, she'd eventually take it from him.  As she stood beside him, he slid the card and envelope toward her, but held it in his hands as if afraid it would burn her fingers.  She gazed down at the card and eye-watering envelope.  She shared the same thoughts as her husband:  gaudy and hideous.  Was it a joke?  It had to be a joke.  There was no other explanation.

"The team," she asked hopefully.

He was amazed at how easily she could read him, to get into his mind without trying.  "I don't think so," he said.  "They have the capacity to send a gag gift of some sort, but this is…"

"Hideous," she said, completing his thought.

He nodded.  "Yes," he replied.  "Hideous."

"You don't think…"

It was Donovan's turn to read her mind.  He shook his head firmly.  "Of course not, Loralei.  How would she have access?  We've moved since the trial.  She wouldn't know."  He had suspected Black Heart immediately as well, but he didn't want this particular ghost to haunt Loralei for rest of her life.  "It's not her."

"Stop protecting me, Donovan," she said stubbornly.  "Isn't this worth a phone call?  If you don't check into it, _I_ will."

He glanced at her.  Her arms were crossed over her chest and her jaw was clenched tightly.  He was more than familiar with the stance.  He couldn't count the number of times he had seen it.  Despite his fear, despite his own suspicions, he realized that they both needed to put the widow to rest.  "Oh, I know you will," he said with a grin.  "Seriously, Loralei, we need to stop jumping at these shadows.  I'll ask about the card tomorrow.  If I don't find the culprits there, I'll follow up with a phone call."  He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close.  "This is some type of silly prank.  I have dozens of enemies, not just her."

She sighed heavily and her body relaxed a bit.  She molded her body into his, thankful for his closeness, comfort, and warmth.  "Throw it out, Frank, okay?  If you don't want to do that, just get it out of my sight."  Loralei released her hold on his body and stepped away.  "I suddenly feel the need to bathe.  That card is crawling with filth."

He turned to watch her as she entered the bedroom.  He didn't throw away the card, he couldn't.  He was afraid that this would be the first clue of many to come, and he wasn't even sure he could face another round with the Black Heart.  He took the card and stuffed it and its envelope into the pocket of a jacket hanging from its hook on a nearby door.  His hunch was well worth investigating.  

Donovan made his way toward the bedroom.  Loralei had just finished undressing.  At the sight of her, a sweet, sweet ache gripped the pit of his stomach and spread growing warmth all over his body.  He wasn't sure if she would manage to get her bath tonight or not.  _Maybe she'll have it later_, he thought as he approached her.  He took hold of her upper arms very gently and pulled her body close against his.  As his parted lips met hers, he couldn't stop thanking the higher powers for sparing her life.  He couldn't live without her, not now, not ever.  He pushed thoughts of the card and the Black Heart out of his mind.  If he didn't, Loralei was sure to pick up on it.  Within moments, she was helping him strip out of his clothing.  He made love to her gently, but hungrily, hoping that the demons would stay away, at least for one more night.

*  *  *

In her tiny room with very weak light, she sat at her little desk, humming contently.  Her mind was fuzzy and clouded, and she wasn't sure anymore how she managed to get Frankie's address.  Oh well, like it mattered anyway.  By now, he and his little wifey had probably received her card.  At least, she hoped they had.  She wondered how long it would take him to remember her, to figure out that it was _she_ who was the master of the game.  She didn't want him to forget her; he needed to remember.  If he didn't, what good was the game at all?  It had been many years since she nearly ran him down, but surely he would remember.  Wouldn't he?  _Wouldn't he_?  How could he forget her?  How could he forget what he had meant to her?  It wasn't fair, nothing was.  This woman had the life that she should have had; she would bear the children that should be hers.  No.  It wouldn't happen.  It would never happen.  She would make sure of that.  She would take good care of them both.  She would make them both pay for stealing the life that was rightfully hers.

*  *  *

In another tiny room in the very same hospital, another woman was restless.  She paced her room like the caged animal that she was, occasionally stopping to glance out her barred window.  She smiled a little when she thought of the bitch and her bastard.  They were stupid.  They were _all_ stupid.  She wasn't insane, she had a mission, a seek and destroy mission.  She had lingered in the 'hospital' longer than she wanted.  Security here was tight and hectic, because the 'patients' were nuts.  There was one woman two 'rooms' [the 'hospital' would never call the rooms cells] down who sat at her desk all day mooning and fawning over bridal magazines.  She'd sit and rock for hours, mumbling incoherently.  She had no idea how she had ended up at such a fucked up booby hatch.  Her attorney [the fuck] had set this up for her, had helped her elude the death penalty.  Perhaps she could target him as well.  She wanted out, and by God, she would find a way. 

           


	3. Back To Work

CHAPTER 3—BACK TO WORK

She groaned in frustration.  The light filtering in through the bed covers had managed to penetrate the barrier she had tried to set up.  Her husband was an evil, evil man.  He had kept her up half the night making love to her, and now that it was the crack of dawn, he decided to rise early and make her pay for something _he_ had started.  She found herself wondering why her mother had never told her about the aggravating aspects of marriage.  Of course, she was used to this behavior.  How many months had they lived together?  Would she ever get used to this?  She groaned again as she listened to the juvenile jerk chuckling.  If she could find her shoes, she might pick one up and throw it at him.  _Naw_, she thought, _I wouldn't want to mar his face_.

"Turn off the damn light," Loralei mumbled/groaned from beneath the covers.  

He smiled as he popped off the light.  Donovan stood near the bed and contemplated his next move.  He really needed to finish dressing for his morning workout.  Yet, staring down at Loralei, he wondered if the workout could possibly be skipped.  He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed beside her and hold her all day.  Oh, the temptation.  After a moment of hesitation, he crawled onto the bed toward the huddled form of his new wife.  She had obviously fallen back asleep.  _We can't have that, now can we?_  He pulled back the covers and exposed the top half of her body.  She was beautiful, glorious, and completely devoid of clothing.  He pulled her hair back from her face and kissed her cheek, allowing his lips to wander to her ear, and then he slid his tongue over to the sensitive spot of flesh directly behind it.  It was _the_ weakest spot on her body.  If he so much as breathed on it, she'd explode.

Her eyes came open suddenly as the sensation rippled through her like the aftershocks of an earthquake.  She turned her head slightly, to get his mouth off that spot.  His lips captured hers tenderly.  "That's one hell of a wakeup call," she said softly after the kiss was broken.

"Come on," he whispered.  "Come shower with me."

"Uh uh," she moaned, "I'd rather sleep."

"I won't have that," he said.  "You can sleep all day if you want, but right now, I want you.  I'll carry you in."

She smiled.  "You're such a bastard."

"No.  I just don't want to shower alone."

Neither of them gave the card a second thought.

*  *  *

Donovan walked into the darkened office a bit on the annoyed side.  It seemed as if everyone intended to come in late.  His two-week absence had apparently made them slack off a bit.  _The honeymoon is over, unfortunately_, he thought distractedly.  He hit the lights and was taken by surprise at the hanging sign screaming _CONGRATULATIONS_.  Just a short time ago, he had all but forgotten the bizarre greeting card he and Loralei had received in the mail.  The sign brought his mind back to it.  Absently, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the crumpled pink envelope.  Even though the team had obviously put up the dangling letters, they still weren't present.  He wanted to get to the bottom of this card issue, not only for him, but for his wife as well.  If he didn't call Loralei within the next couple of hours, he was certain that she'd make a special trip to the hospital to ask about the Black Heart face-to-face.  He turned toward the door as the team entered the room one-by-one.  They had been waiting outside and wanted to make a grand entrance.

Donovan looked upward toward the four feet high letters.  "You did this," he asked with his usual poker face.

"Sure, Boss, who else," Cody said.  "By the way, did you get much sun?"  Donovan fixed his deadpan gaze on Cody's face.  "Hmm, even an extended honeymoon did nothing for his personality," Cody stage-whispered to Alex.

Donovan shook his head and turned back toward the sign.  He decided to ignore Cody this time. "Thank you," he said, his eyes fixed on the gigantic letters.  He didn't realize he still held the envelope in his hand.  "Oh yes," he said as he turned toward his team with the gaudy pink envelope clutched in his fist.  "Were you responsible for this?"

For reasons unknown to him, Cody noticed that the boss had fixed his gaze on him again.  "Uh uh, no way.  Not me.  Even _my _taste is better than _that_."

"None of you," he asked.  There was a catch in his voice that he didn't like.  He didn't want to have to break the news to Loralei.  He was worried, and he definitely didn't like to worry.  He watched in a bizarre kind of horror as each team member shook his or her head and denied it.  Without a word, he approached his team and handed the bright pink horror to Monica.  "I want all of you to look at this.  It was in our mail when we came home."

Monica took the envelope from Donovan's hand and pulled the card out.  He watched as her expression changed from curiosity to disgust.  She handed it over to Cody.  Like Loralei, she didn't even want to touch it.  Silently, he watched as each member of his team looked at the card and the neon envelope.  Their reactions were similar to Monica's.  None of them said one word.  However, he could easily read them.  They all shared the same synergistic thought:  Black Heart.  He had to be told nothing further.  He turned away from the group of agents, walked under the blaring sign, and went upstairs.

Not much had the power to throw Donovan into a panic, but this did.  He grabbed the phone and dialed a number that he had committed to memory eight long months ago.  He called it often, just to check out the situation.  Loralei was vulnerable to the Black Heart, and there was no way he intended to put her in the line of danger again.  "Yes," he said once the phone was answered.  "This is Frank Donovan.  I'm calling about Carly Butler."

*  *  *

She once again had to suffer the indignity of having her 'room' shaken down.  It seemed as if the staff searched her room every week.  She never had a clear idea of what they were looking for, but it was upsetting.  How in the world could she hide anything?  They wouldn't allow the 'patients' to have anything in their 'rooms' that might inflict harm on themselves or anyone else.  The fucks even monitored their use of pens, pencils, and markers.  One had to have a guard present just to write a damn letter.  Of course, not many of the 'patients' were lucid enough to write their names, much less pen a letter.  She wasn't stupid.  She had never been stupid in her life.  She knew who was behind the endless shakedowns:  Frank and Loralei Donovan.  She enjoyed the thought that she still held them captive and that they feared her.  Yet, she didn't enjoy their interventions in her life [or what there was of it].  She often wondered what was going on to have them request shakedowns.  She was angered that she wasn't a part of it, and she wanted in on it.  Mostly, she stood back and acted psychotic while her 'room' was searched from one end to the other.  The staff members would give her a pill [which she palmed on more than one occasion], and then go on to the next unlucky 'patient.'  She wasn't sure if any other person there endured the endless shakedowns.  She hated the Donovans and was envious of the power they held over her.

*  *  *

Black Heart was right about one thing.  Not many of the other 'patients' had shakedowns.  Perhaps it might have been a good thing if they did.  The long ago ex-lover of a young Frank Donovan had free reign over writing instruments and paper.  She also had unlimited visits from family members.  On the day she had made the card, her matronly aunt had visited.  The aunt barely knew her, and knew very little about her history.  She had been told that her niece had always been off balance, but that was all she knew.  So, when she asked her auntie to mail the card for her, she did not hesitate.  She, in fact, jumped at the chance to please her disturbed niece.  The aunt was ambivalent toward her niece, but she did feel sorry for the poor dear.  She wasn't told the reason behind her committal, because it was a guarded family secret.  She was a shame to the family name, and none of her brothers or sisters even _attempted_ to visit.  Auntie often obliged any request made, including mailing things for her.  Staff members didn't find it necessary to search her.  She was relatively harmless.  Every few months, her niece's 'room' was to be shaken down, but most of the time, the staff was lax, and it sometimes went unchecked for a year at a stretch.  Her niece was considered low risk.  The poor dear did nothing more than gaze at bridal magazines day after day.  She would tear out the pictures and hold them against her chest before asking how she looked in her wedding gown.  It was very sad, and she didn't understand why the girl was fixated on weddings.  She would never have a husband.

When the auntie was given the obscene homemade card, she wasn't sure she wanted to mail it.  It seemed grotesque and a bit on the unnatural side.  The exaggeration of the written address and names of the intended recipients bothered her.  She had watched her niece write dozens of letters, and her handwriting had never been anything less than neat.  This seemed wrong somehow.  She gazed at the names.  Frankie and Lori Donovan.  Who were they?  She didn't think they were relatives of the family, but she wasn't sure.  After all, the family was large and spread out.  Anything was possible.  Despite her trepidations, the auntie slapped a first class stamp on the card and mailed it.  It was probably harmless.  She shook her head sadly.  _My poor dear niece_, she thought.  She wouldn't hurt a fly.

*  *  *

She slapped her palm flat down on the insect.  _Die you bastard die_.  She lifted her hand and peered at it curiously.  The fly was a squashed mess in the palm of her hand.  For more than an hour, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the insect's corpse.  She stared at the bug and imagined it was Frankie's head.  _No, not Frankie, his wife_.  Yes, that was a much better image.  She would squash the bitch as effectively as she had squashed the fly.  Without hesitating, she scraped the dead bug off on the windowsill.  She glanced at her hand and noticed that some of the fly remained.  Ugh.  She wiped her hand on the white pants that every 'patient' had to wear.  She turned away from the window and went back to her little desk.  It was almost time to make another card.  She wanted to write him a long letter, but she thought better of it.  She wasn't exactly ready for that.  She wanted Frankie to respond to the cards, to remember her.  A noise distracted her.  _A fly, another damn fly_.  She had no idea how so many bugs got inside.  It landed gracefully on her desktop, buzzing contently.  She balled her hand into a fist and slammed it down.  _Another pest gone_.  This time, she would choose green for the card, neon green.  It would be absolutely lovely.

*  *  *

Donovan could have called Loralei, but he didn't really want to do that.  What he had to tell her would be best said in her presence.  As he made his way downstairs, he was a little surprised to see her standing in the middle of the room, musing with the others over the card.  He recalled that last night, she hadn't wanted to look at it again.  Today, she was seemingly fixated on it.  He didn't like the wild expression on her face.  It reminded him of a trapped animal, of the Loralei she used to be, the one who ended up shot and dying in his arms. 

Loralei looked up as he approached.  They exchanged a look between them, seemingly transmitting their inner feelings.  He hadn't wanted her to come here to worry herself unnecessarily, and she hadn't wanted to stay away.  She waited expectantly.  Any moment now, he expected her to start tapping her foot.  One thing he had learned very quickly about Loralei Kadin Donovan was that she didn't have a lot of patience.

"Did you call," she asked suddenly, "or should I do it right now?"

He gently took her by the arm.  "I called.  Maybe we should go upstairs?"

Stubbornly, she shook her head.  "No.  They witnessed it, they know all about it, and I'm well aware that they didn't do it.  Whatever you have to say can be said anywhere."

He nodded.  "Okay.  There's nothing to worry about.  She is still secure, and I requested a shake down of her cell.  They found nothing.  In fact, the inmates aren't supposed to have any type of writing instrument that can be used as a weapon unless they're under supervision.  It didn't come from her."  For the first time since he was aware of her presence, he noticed that she was clutching the card.

Her eyes searched his face.  She was looking for signs of deception.  She knew he was fiercely protective of her, even when she didn't need it.  Finding nothing in his eyes or expression, she said, "If not her, then _who_, Frank?  _Who_?  It has to be someone we both know, and she is the only psycho we have in common."  She sighed and tossed the card aside.  Suddenly, she had forgotten the two of them had an audience.  "I'm going to visit her," she said.

"Here comes World War 3," Cody mumbled behind them.

Donovan fixed a stern, cold stare on him for a brief moment.  As he focused his eyes on his wife, he heard Cody mumbling again, saying something along the lines of 'saaaawwwwwry.'  "I think we need to go upstairs," he said calmly.

She sighed.  What was it about men that made them so viciously protective?  It had to be something primitive and innate in the species.  "Fine."

He led Loralei upstairs.  Once they were in the office, he closed the door behind them.  "What good will it do for you to go there," he asked.

"It will ease my mind more than a phone call.  I need to see her, with my own eyes, to ensure that she is secure.  After that, I'll drop it.  But I have to do this."

Her words made perfect sense, but at the same time, they didn't.  All he had to do was think back eight months ago when she stood before him and screamed like a banshee.  It was enough to convince him that a visit would be a very bad idea, but he knew her, he knew her well.  She wouldn't listen to him.  "I know you'll do whatever you need to do despite how I feel about it.  I know you'll go regardless of anything I say.  Before I agree to this, there is one condition you must meet."

She stood back and gazed at Donovan.  His poker face had returned, his jaw was set stubbornly, and his eyebrow was lifted in its usual 'challenge me' mode.  _The consummate negotiator_, she thought.  Loralei was irritated.  He never failed to amaze her.  At one moment, he could be as free-minded as a flower child.  At the next, he would become a prehistoric caveman.  _Me man.  You woman.  Me boss_.  Yet, he never failed to see inside her.  She often wondered if he had taken mind reading lessons before they married.  "With you, my love, there's _always_ a condition," she said as she struggled to keep her smile from surfacing.  "What is it?  Please share, Agent Donovan."

His stoic expression broke for a brief moment as a hint of a grin touched his lips.  She could read him as well as he read her.  "You _will not_ go alone," he said without taking his eyes off hers.  "We'll go together.  Without me, there's no deal."

She shook her head and ran her tongue thoughtfully over her lips.  "You're such a sexist jerk," she said, not unkindly.

He approached her and smoothed her silky hair back from her face.  "What am I going to do with you," he asked softly as his eyes searched her face.

Her arms went around his waist.  "You're going to suck it up and take it like a man."       


	4. Plunge Into Insanity

CHAPTER 3—PLUNGE INTO INSANITY

It had been several years since he had thought about her.  Her image was buried deeply within his memory banks.  He had tried to tell himself time and time again that he had blocked her out to push back the pain.  However, he was simply lying to himself.  He had done so for many years.  He shoved her way back because he was subconsciously the biggest bastard who ever walked the planet.  He blamed himself for her breakdown, even though he had no way of knowing that she was never completely sane.  All he could see was the crazed look on her face as she tromped on the gas pedal and urged the car forward.  He had even ducked behind a statue like a coward.  He should have taken whatever punishment she had wanted to dole out.  He should have done _something_.  He hadn't.  He had run away from the memories, from _her_, and had tried to run from the guilt, but it wasn't easy.  Thoughts of her came to the surface at night, in the occasional nightmare.  He had longed to apologize for what he had done, but it was no use.  She would haunt him forever.

*  *  *

Donovan came awake suddenly.  _What the hell_, he thought as he sat straight up in bed.  His movements hadn't disturbed Loralei.  Her body was tucked beneath the covers, but her naked shoulder was peeking out, seemingly begging to be kissed.  He vaguely remembered dreaming, but he couldn't remember what or whom he had been dreaming about.  He held up his wrist in the moonlight filtering through a nearby window and peered at his watch.  It was a quarter to three in the morning.  He felt apprehensive and on edge, and attributed it to the visit he and Loralei would make later in the day.  However, something was amiss, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

The discussion about the mental hospital visit was a week old, but Donovan hadn't been able to get away.  There was too much going on at work.  He couldn't count the cases that had poured in during his absence.  It was a struggle just getting a day off.  Of course, he didn't mind the delay.  He didn't like this idea, didn't like what it would do to his wife, or to him.  Why could they not leave the ghosts behind and look forward to their future?  It wasn't just Loralei.  It was the same with him.  He couldn't put Black Heart to rest, couldn't stop wondering what her next move would be.  Giving up on sleep for the time being, Donovan crawled out of bed carefully and looked back over his shoulder to ensure that Loralei hadn't awakened.  He grabbed his robe and shrugged into it.  He then padded into the living room and picked up a briefcase that had been resting under an end table.  He sat down on one end of the couch and laid the briefcase on the other end.  He popped the case open and dug out a small steno pad.

Once Loralei had left his office a week ago, he had conferred with Monica and Cody about the envelope.  He wanted to know what type of person would send something so hideous.  He specifically recalled telling them to eliminate the thought of Black Heart.  He didn't want to believe that 'Carly' had tracked them down.  _This is someone who holds a grudge, but not a typical one_, he had written [this was a direct quote from Monica].  _Too similar to Black Heart_, he thought, _time to move on_.  He skimmed the page and found:  _You know this person, and probably know her well_.  _Her_?  Who said it was a woman?  Was that what Monica had said, or was it something he had written out of pure instinct?  The printing on the card was distinctly female [again, according to Monica, and Cody agreed].  _Since when does handwriting have a gender_?  He shook his head as if trying to clear it.  He was afraid he was losing his edge.  Of course, he supposed that handwriting analysts could differentiate between the writings of a man and a woman.  Still…  _No, no, no_, his mind screamed.  He refused to believe it, to accept it.  Tomorrow would put an instantaneous end to the nonsense.

Donovan didn't feel settled.  His nerves were jumpy.  There was no other person he could point a finger toward, but that didn't seem altogether right.  _What is it?  What is going on_?  He could almost feel it, could almost feel the words popping up on his tongue, but he couldn't quite spit it out.  His memories were buried too deeply in a safe locked far back into his psyche.  Sighing, he closed the steno pad and placed it back into the briefcase.  If he didn't put it away now, he'd brood over it for the rest of the night.

"Frank?"

He looked toward the bedroom.  Dressed in one of his shirts, Loralei stood leaning against the doorframe and gazed at him curiously.  "What are you doing up?"

She stifled a yawn behind her hand.  "What are _you_ doing up?"

He smiled a little and shook his head.  "Couldn't sleep.  What's your excuse?"

"Once you become accustomed to sleeping with someone, you miss him when he's gone," she said.

Donovan slid the briefcase to the end of the couch before crooking his finger at her.  She didn't hesitate to join him.  She sat beside him and drew her legs up under her.  Leaning her head against his shoulder, she inhaled his scent, and felt a shiver running through her body.  She loved his scent and the warmth of his body most of all.

"Are you okay," she asked suddenly.  

His hand reached out and his finger lightly traced a circle around a nipple straining against the fabric of the shirt.  "I'm all right.  I think I'll be better after tomorrow.  I think we'll _both_ be better."

"Mmmm," she sighed.  The gentle movement of his finger was somewhat distracting.  "You're right.  I'm sorry I insisted on going, but I _have _to do this," she nearly whispered.  His touch was electrifying.

"I know," he said.  "It's okay.  I love you, Loralei."

She smiled.  "You'd better."

He leaned toward her and kissed her gently, but the kiss quickly deepened when her lips parted against his.  During the kiss, he tried to pull her over to straddle him, but she backed away from his grasp.  Bewildered, he gazed at her with a look that said:  _What the hell_?  He liked to have control over everything, even in the bedroom.  Sometimes, though, she enjoyed taking that control away from him.  She could do it, and did it quite often, but at times she was an insufferable tease.  He simply didn't know if he liked it a little or a lot.  She smiled and took hold of his robe's belt.  What in the world was she trying to do to him?  Not making one move to stop her, he continued to gaze at her with the same puzzled expression as she slowly untied the belt.  His robe opened now, she noticed with a feigned look of disappointment that he was still wearing the sexy black briefs she loved seeing him in.  _Yet one more barrier to remove_, she thought as she ran her tongue over her lips.

She leaned toward him and placed a soft kiss on his lips.  He tried to pull her toward him again, but she backed off a second time.  She shook her head and wagged her finger at him in a 'tsk tsk' motion as if he were a child caught misbehaving.  Frustrated, he wanted more of her, to touch and taste the flesh that she had hidden so well beneath his shirt.  His impatient puzzlement never left his face.  He opened his mouth to speak, but she placed her finger over his lips and shook her head again.  Keeping her eyes locked with his, she straddled one leg, inserting her knee between his thighs.  She was painstakingly close to his aching groin.  She placed very gentle kisses on his lips, but wouldn't give him any more than that.  During her brief, teasing kisses, her hand drifted from his shoulder, down his chest, and eventually ventured lower.  He took in a deep breath as he anticipated her touch, as he _needed_ her touch.  It didn't come right away, and he groaned against her lips.

"Loralei," he whispered huskily.

"Shh."  She kissed him again, this time giving him more, allowing him to slip his tongue between her lips before she pulled away yet again.

"Don't do this to…"  His words were cut off abruptly as her hand finally went down where he needed it most.  "…me," he spat as she began a maddeningly slow caress.  

She stopped as abruptly as she began, and he groaned again.  His pulse boomed at his temples.  She shifted her body slightly, pulling it into a slight crouch beside him.  Her lips moved over his chest and slipped down onto the taut muscles of his stomach.  Every ounce of blood in his body began to rush down below his waist.  She slipped her hand inside his briefs and ran a finger along the length of him.  He bit his bottom lip as her feather light touch drove him further and further over the edge of ecstasy.  It was almost painful.  He wanted to ask that she stop before he burst, but he couldn't speak.  She slipped her hand out, and he exhaled a heavy, but shaky breath.  He couldn't stand much more of this.  She slowly pushed his briefs down and freed him from the increasingly uncomfortably tight garment.  He closed his eyes and bit his lip again as he felt her warm breath so close, yet still so very far away.  There seemed to be absolutely no blood flowing to his brain, and he felt quite incapacitated.

"What do we have here," she asked softly, her voice lilting seductively.

"What you have," he spat, finally able to force actual words out of his mouth, "is something that cannot withstand much more of this.  Do the terms 'explosive' and 'pyrotechnic' mean anything to you?"

"Mmm, yes," she whispered as her hand fell on him.

A moment after she touched him, her wet tongue teased the tip of him.  He closed his eyes ever so tightly and his hand went into her silky hair.  Once again, he found he couldn't speak or move.  He was totally and completely enslaved by her touch.  He then decided he liked letting her have the upper hand…sometimes.  A few teasing strokes later, she drew away.  

Donovan groaned deeply and audibly.  "Goddamn," he sighed, "you must stop this," he whispered harshly.

She ignored his words for a moment as her lips made a path from his stomach to his chest.  After teasing him so shamelessly, she finally settled her body right where he wanted it.  She sat almost completely astride him now.  His pulsating erection was right against her.  It would take only a tiny nudge to be inside her, to feel her warmth, to experience mind-bending release.  As he was about to make his move, she lifted her body upward.

"Not," she said as she placed a gentle kiss on his left cheek.  "So," she said, placing another kiss on his right cheek.  "Fast."  Her lips met his briefly.

He slipped his hands down to her legs and moved them up under the shirt.  In the process, he managed to shove it a bit past her hips.  He rested his hands on each side of her waist.  Her body was hot and fevered and her nipples strained desperately against the material of the shirt, begging to be freed.  She was halfway over the edge herself, but continued to play her erotically cruel game.  

"Not so fast, she says," he whispered, his voice quite shaky.  If she didn't let him come inside her soon, he thought he might die.  "Not so fast.  Incredible.  You consider what you've done to me _fast_?"

"Mmm, oh yes," she said against his lips.  "Very fast."

He chuckled the slightest bit.  The low rustling quality of the sound escaping his lips penetrated her entire soul.  _He certainly knows how to work me_.  She felt silly and dumb, but she couldn't help it.  At times, it didn't take much for her to attack him without provocation.  If he looked at her a certain way with a lifted eyebrow, she'd immediately feel that familiar fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach.  She'd either have to turn away or jump his bones.Hundreds of tiny chill bumps [or 'thrill' bumps as she liked to call them] had begun to break out all over her body.  He smiled a little as he recognized this as one of a dozen cues indicating that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.  The game was just about over.  Slowly, she lowered her body again, and this time, he was ready for her.  She would not escape.  Without taking his eyes off hers, he slipped into her deeply, deliciously.  For a short span of time, their only thought, their only concern was their love for each other.  Nothing else mattered.

*  *  *

Loralei was obviously in the midst of a wonderful dream.  From his vantage point beside the bed, Donovan could see a little smile framing her lips.  It would be such a shame to wake her, but if they didn't get on the road soon, they'd never make it to the hospital and back before nightfall.  He leaned over her and lightly smacked her luscious bottom with the back of his hand.  She moaned and spat out an incoherent curse.  With a smile, he shook his head and did it again.

"Come on, Loralei.  Let's move."

"No," she groaned.  "Five more minutes."

After their heated little episode on the couch, he took her to bed and they fell asleep in each other's arms.  That had been…oh…about an hour ago?  He had trained his body to function with little sleep, but he couldn't say the same about Loralei.  "Nope."  He climbed onto the bed and leaned even closer to her.  His breath fell on the nape of her neck.  "Would you like me to do the ear thing again?  I don't mind, you know."

She rose up suddenly, comically, nearly popping Donovan on the jaw with her head.  "No, that's okay.  Maybe we can do that later."

"After what you did to me last night," he said as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips, "it might be a long time before I do that again."

She looked at him with a lifted eyebrow, intentionally mocking him.  "I didn't hear you arguing about it," she said with a smile.

He shook his head again.  "You're not doing it to me now.  Uh uh, no way, Loralei."  He grabbed her hands and pulled her up to her knees.  "You can be flip all you want," he said as he gazed at her intensely.  "I know you're scared.  After today, we put her behind us.  We were free of her for eight long months, and we can be free of her for the rest of our lives."

She nodded.  "I want that.  I want that more than anything.  I made a promise to you, Frank, and I'll keep it.  When I lay my eyes on her, it's done."

"Fair enough."  He dropped his serious expression and glanced at his wristwatch.  "I'm giving you fifteen minutes to get dressed.  If you're not finished, we're leaving anyway," he said with a grin.

She gave him a mock salute.  "Fair enough, my good Lord.  I do pity your team sometimes."

"I mean it, Loralei.  The clock is ticking," he said before turning away and leaving the room.

Loralei got going.  She didn't know whether he was bluffing or not.  It was best not to fuck around too much with Frank Donovan.

*  *  *

They had been driving for a little more than two hours.  Loralei was particularly quiet and hadn't said much at all.  She gazed blankly out the window.  Every now and then, he caught her clutching at her stomach as if she were sick.  This trip had more of an effect on her than she wanted to admit.  His wife was a brave woman; she had gone through so much pain and torment.  He wasn't sure he could have made it if their situations had been reversed.  Even those who were brave had weaknesses, and the Black Heart was her weakness.  He hoped that this journey would end her torment once and for all.

Donovan took an exit off the freeway and coasted the car onto a narrow two-lane road.  If he recalled correctly, the hospital was out in the country, isolated from society.  If he had gotten the directions right, this road would take them there with little fuss and muss.  Since Loralei was so distant, he caught his mind wondering to various other things.  He didn't want to focus solely on thoughts of the widow.  They would be dealing with her soon enough.  Suddenly, Loralei moaned, bringing him out of his self-absorbed daze.

Concerned, he focused his eyes on her.  She was clutching at her stomach again.  "Are you okay?"

She shook her head.  "No," she moaned.  "Pull over, Frank, I think I'm going to be sick."

Looking out for traffic behind them and seeing none, he coasted the car over to the side of the road.  The car had barely stopped before she had the door open.  She darted away like a shot and a few moments later, he heard the horrible sound of her retching.  As he got out of the car to approach her, his eyes noticed a sign:  _Rockbridge Hospital 60_.  He sighed and shook his head sadly.  Loralei probably saw it before he did.  The thought of being so close to the institution, so close to Black Heart, had finally pushed her stress addled body to the max.  By the time he neared her, she had recovered and was making her way toward him.

He caught her by the arm before she could get to the car.  Her face was flushed and pale; her eyes were watering, and beads of sweat had broken out on her forehead.  "Loralei?"

"I'm okay," she said.  "It just got to me."  She shook off his arm without malice.  "I don't think you should be so close to me right now.  I'd hate to have to puke on you.  I feel yucky, I need to find a bathroom."

He smiled a little and followed behind her.  Her strength amazed him sometimes.  She would be fine.  

Donovan found a convenience store ten miles up the road in a small 'if you blink your eyes you'll miss it' town.  He stayed behind as Loralei went into the bathroom.  Her upset stomach refused to leave her alone.  She was sick again.  She leaned over the toilet bowl for what seemed like an hour and waited for the sensation to pass.  When it finally went away, she washed her face and blotted it dry with a sand papery-like paper towel.  She gazed at her reflection in the mirror and noticed that she looked terrible.  _Get a grip, Loralei_.  _After today, you can breathe easily_.     


	5. Rockbridge

CHAPTER 4—ROCKBRIDGE

Donovan looked up as Loralei walked out of the convenience store.  She looked a little better, but her face was still pale.  He couldn't stand seeing her like this, and he hoped that she could get through the visit.  Without a word, she climbed into the car and strapped herself in.  Impatiently, she waited for him to join her.  He figured he might as well get moving.  If he didn't, he wouldn't doubt that she'd rev the car to life and leave him behind.  They had less than an hour to drive, and she grew even more withdrawn and silent.  He was thankful that they didn't have to stop again.  She had even stopped clutching at her stomach.

When Rockbridge finally came into sight, he heard Loralei draw in a sharp breath.  As he focused his dark eyes on the drab gray building, he was profoundly grateful that he didn't have to stay here.  It reminded him of some type of gothic cathedral.  Had he read somewhere that it _had_ been a cathedral at one point in time?  He couldn't remember.  The only thing that shattered that image was the razor wire and tall chain link fence surrounding the perimeter of the hospital.  If he didn't know it, he would have thought it was a normal every day prison.  It looked like a close cousin to Alcatraz [without the water].  He saw a sign that said 'visitor parking' and he directed the car toward an empty slot that seemed miles and miles away from the main building.  He put the car in park and killed the engine.  For a long time, he gazed at Loralei.  Her eyes were fixed on the tall, imposing building. 

"I'm all right," she said suddenly as if sensing what he was about to ask.  "If I walk away satisfied today, we're going to celebrate tonight."

He reached across the seat and allowed his hand to caress her silky hair.  "Have I ever told you that I admire your strength?"

She smiled a little.  "Once or twice."  She was relieved to note that her stomach had finally settled.  Sighing, she said, "Let's do this, Donovan."

The two of them got out of the car and Donovan took Loralei's arm.  She smiled a little and again mused about how protective he was.  It was irritating, but endearing.

The outside of the hospital was bad, but the inside was worse.  The interior was part hospital and part prison.  There were three floors inside with an open ceiling appearance, and from all sides, dozens upon dozens of cells surrounded them.  There were no bars on the doors.  A square of shatterproof glass covered by mesh wire was installed on each door.  Who Loralei assumed was guards strolled about each floor.  Oddly enough, they were dressed in hospital scrubs.  There was hardly any noise at all.  The silence disturbed her most of all.  It didn't seem right, it was sinister and foreboding.  They were forced to go through a metal detector and were then instructed to leave behind anything of value, including their wedding rings.  Not in the least bit happy about it, Loralei removed her wedding and engagement rings, grudgingly handing them over.  She noticed that Donovan wasn't thrilled about it, either.

She felt another lurch in her stomach as they were led from the check-in area to the 'lead counselor's' [LC] office.  This fellow was more or less a warden.  Loralei found it strange that they had special names for everything.  It was plain what kind of place this was, yet no one seemed to want to acknowledge it.  Loralei and Donovan had made arrangements with the LC for this visit, and he was expecting them.  Even more nervous now, Loralei sat in one of the comfortable wingchairs in the LC's office while Donovan remained standing at her side.  The LC was chatting away on the phone.

"I'm sorry about that," the LC said.  "My name is Fred Hall.  Most of the patients here call me Counselor Hall," he said.  "So, you are the Donovans," he asked, stating the obvious.  It was clear he didn't expect either of them to confirm or deny who they were.  "I've spoken to you on more than one occasion regarding Ms. Butler," he said, focusing his eyes on Donovan.  "I understand you have some concerns that she is sending you some type of correspondence?"

"Yes," Donovan said patiently.  Hadn't they discussed this already?  "Both my wife and I have a personal history with Bla-Ms. Butler," he said.  He had nearly called her 'Black Heart.'  "All we are requesting is a few moments.  Neither of us wants to stay any longer than that."

Loralei was relieved that Donovan was doing all the talking.  She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she would throw up all over the floor.  She didn't want the LC's first impression of her to be a disgusting one.

"Mr. Donovan, Mrs. Donovan, I can assure you both that Ms. Butler hasn't sent any correspondence to anyone.  In fact, she hasn't had a single visitor in the eight months she has been here.  As I've said on more than one occasion, our patients do not have free access to writing materials.  We provide what they need and closely monitor them.  As you know, something as harmless as an ink pen could be used to put an eye out or to stab."

The image didn't sit well with Loralei.  Her queasy stomach did another flip-flop.  If she didn't get out of here soon, she was going to make a big mess.  She also didn't appreciate the lecture they were receiving from this self-inflated 'counselor.'  He had no idea how dangerous Black Heart was, how dangerous she could be if she ever escaped.

"You understand that I'm allowing this only because of your special status, Mr. Donovan," he said as if he had bestowed upon them some grand favor.  "I'll have one of the staff members to take you to Ms. Butler's room.  Please wait here."

After he left, Loralei exhaled slowly.  "Isn't he Mr. Charm," she spat sarcastically.  "He's only humoring us, Agent Donovan with the _special_ status," she mocked.  "I don't like this setup, Frank, something isn't right around here."

He sat on the arm of her chair and crossed his arms over his chest.  "Yes, I can see what you mean.  Having a _special _status has its perks," he said mocking her.  "I can arrange a surprise inspection if necessary."  He gazed her curiously.  Her face seemed paler than ever.  "Loralei, are you all right?"

She nodded.  "I'm fine," she said with a sigh.  "I'm just sick.  Once we're out of here, I'll feel better."

He studied her very carefully.  A thought entered his mind, one that needed to be voiced.  After all, he wasn't totally oblivious.  "Loralei, are you-"

Before he could finish the question, the LC brought in a staff member built like a tree.  Donovan was tall, but this guy loomed over him by a good three inches.  Without a word, he led them out of the main office and through the maze of cells up to the third floor.  As they followed along behind him, he explained that he couldn't open the door to 'Carly's' cell [no duh], and their visit would have to be short.  He droned on and on, and Loralei blocked out his voice as best as she could.  She cared very little about what his daily job entailed.  She wanted to see the widow, wanted to ensure the cell was inescapable, and then she wanted to get the fuck out.

"Here we are," the guard built like a mighty Sequoia said.

The doors were very thick, at least four inches, and made of reinforced steel.  The only entrance to the 'room' was this door, and in order to unlock it, one would have to have a specially made key.  The Sequoia told them that each 'room' had a different key.  There were no master keys.  To the Sequoia man, that fact made the 'rooms' impenetrable.  Curiously, Loralei peered through the tiny window.  She could see that the 'room' was sparsely furnished and very tiny.  There were no writing utensils or paper inside.  At first, she couldn't see the widow.  Her heart began to beat heavily in her chest and the nausea that had all but gone away had begun to rage within her once again.  Before Loralei knew what was happening, Black Heart threw her body against the door and screamed at her.  She couldn't hear the sound, of course, but she could see the distortion of Black Heart's face, and it didn't take a behaviorist to know what she was doing.  She stepped back and bumped into Donovan in the process.  She had forgotten all about him.

"Okay," Loralei said.  "I've seen enough."  Even though Loralei didn't hear her, she could read lips.  Black Heart had threatened to skin her alive before gutting her husband.  

She tried to walk away, but the Sequoia grabbed her arm.  "Miss, you have to wait for me," he said.

Donovan shot the man a dark look.  He didn't want anyone touching her in such a fashion.  She wasn't a damn rag doll.  "Lead the way," he spat.  "I'll see to it that she follows."

He rolled his eyes to as if to say 'whatever.'  He released Loralei's arm as Donovan took hold of her.  "This way, please."      

They were taken back to the LC's office.  Donovan wasn't quite as shaken as Loralei, but he wasn't exactly carefree, either.  He had seen a lot of shit over the years, had been in prison riots, fierce hostage situations, bank robberies, etc., but this gothic hospital was one place he would never forget, one in which he'd never visit again.  After another short wait, the LC returned to his office and faced the couple.

"Satisfied," he asked pointedly.

Loralei nodded.  "Quite.  Are all the inmates treated the same?  Do any of them have access to pens, pencils, or paper?"

"Absolutely not without close supervision.  I can assure you that the correspondence you received did not come from our hospital."

"Be that as it may," Donovan began, "I want her cell shaken down every week until further notice.  If you won't do this willingly, I can have a directive issued to you straight from the Justice Department."

Hall didn't like to be ordered about by a hotshot federal agent.  However, he knew that Donovan's implied threat was very real.  All he needed was a JD probe of his administration.  "We can arrange that."

Satisfied for the time being, Donovan took Loralei's hand and led her out of the LC's office.  They gathered their belongings left at check-in and walked quietly out to the car.  She slid into the car on the drivers' side and he climbed in after her.  He watched as she silently replaced her rings.  He didn't intend to pull out of the parking lot until they talked about it.  She glanced at him and waited expectantly.  

"What are you waiting for?  Let's get out of here," she said.

"Not yet.  I need to know how you feel about this."

She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ears.  Her stomach had finally decided to leave her alone for now, and she was profoundly grateful.  "Scared, but convinced.  I don't think she did it, but that worries me, because _somebody_ did.  Maybe it was an isolated incident, but I don't trust that.  We need to find out who did this and why.  As for the Black Heart, I'm really and truly done with her.  Today clinched it."

He caressed her clammy cheek with the back of his hand.  "Are you still sick?"

"Nope," she said with a little smile.  "I'm all better."

He almost held back on his stray thought.  Perhaps it _was_ stress, and for a moment, he considered letting it go.  However, he had promised himself a long time ago that he would never hold anything back where Loralei was concerned.  This time was no exception.  "Have you thought you might be pregnant," he asked.

His question threw her entirely off track.  It was obvious in her facial expression.  She leaned back in the seat and shook her head incredulously.  "Uuuuuuh, no," she said.  "I'm not pregnant."

He smiled a little.  "How do you know?  Are you a doctor?"

"Frank.  Jesus," she spat.  "I may not be a doctor, but I know I'm not pregnant.  There is a wonderful little invention called birth control pills, and I take them faithfully.  Not only that, I've had my period already."

He nodded, but continued to smirk at her.  "Whatever you say," he said as he stuck the key in the ignition and started the car.  "Didn't you forget to take them when we went to Mexico?  Of course, I could be wrong.  I still think you are."

"Shut up," she said, feigning utter exasperation.  "You _are_ wrong, you jerk.  I had them, you just weren't paying attention.  You were too busy trying to undress me."

Donovan put the car in gear and backed out of the parking lot.  Before he pulled the car out onto the highway, he glanced at her.  "I don't mean to pick on you," he said seriously.  "I know this isn't a situation where we should be joking like this, but you've gone through a lot.  I'm just glad that you can walk away from this feeling convinced, that you will not needlessly worry yourself about her anymore."

She nodded.  "I understand.  I feel a little relieved.  I meant it, Frank; I'll put this behind me, behind us.  But you know what?  You're still a jerk," she said with a smile.

He lifted his eyebrow and gazed at her.  His smirk returned.  "You know what," he mocked, "I still think you're pregnant."

*  *  *

She couldn't believe the utter gall of the Donovans.  How _dare_ they come to her, to peer through the window as if she were some type of exotic animal on display.  If she could have gotten through the thick door, she wouldn't have hesitated to choke the life out of Loralei Donovan.  She had spent the next several hours clenching and unclenching her fist, drawing blood in the palms of her hands.  The large man who brought the hated couple had forced a sedative on her, but it hadn't calmed her one iota.  Her hatred coursed through her veins, helping her body fight the numbing effects of the injection.  They hadn't known whom they were fucking with before, and they definitely didn't know now.  She had to find a way to escape.  She could not stand to be cooped up in here any longer.

*  *  *

She had been standing close to the window when she saw Frankie.  Surely not.  When he first dumped her, she saw him in every corner, in every room, but she hadn't done that in years.  She had only seen a brief glimpse of the man, but she could have sworn on a stack of bibles that it was he.  Although it had been many years, she would never forget his face, never forget what he looked like.  What was he doing here?  Had he figured out that it was she behind the cards?  Had he?  It couldn't be.  The guard hadn't taken him to her 'room,' he had taken him to one a few doors down.  She had actually gotten a better look at the woman with the man.  She was obviously the one he had married.  When she glanced at the woman, she could have killed her without a qualm.  Oh, the pain, the sheer utter pain.  She remained standing right up against the door and waited for them to pass by again.  When they did, she was convinced.  He hadn't even looked her way.  He seemed solely focused on the woman whose arm he held onto tightly.  She had screamed then, loud and high.  Of course, the soundproof steel doors hadn't allowed the sound to escape.  He had been in the same building, no more than five feet away.  Oh God.  She had to get out; she had to finish Frankie and his permanent piece.  She just had to devise a plan.  Perhaps the 'patient' a few doors down could help her.  Perhaps.  Just perhaps.

*  *  *

Donovan and Loralei had taken the long way home.  Neither was in a big hurry.  For the first time since receiving the hideous greeting card, both felt _normal_.  After an hour or so, Loralei insisted they stop for food.  He pulled into the parking lot of a small diner, and Donovan watched as Loralei literally floated inside, her feet barely touching the ground at all.  It did his heart wonders to see her acting in such a fashion.  He thought this visit would have affected her badly, but it obviously hadn't.

"Can I say one more thing before we totally drop this," Loralei asked once they were seated.

He smiled a little.  "So much for letting it rest, huh?"

"Oh, I intend to.  This has nothing to do with the woman whose name I won't mention ever again in your presence," she teased.  "This has to do with something else."  He didn't say anything.  She sighed and pressed ahead:  "I saw something a little freaky while we were walking out."

Concerned now, he leaned forward.  "Freaky?  What was it?"

"A woman, Frank, about two or three cells down from Ms. Unmentionable.  Didn't you see her?"

He shook his head.  "No.  I wasn't exactly paying attention.  I was focused on you."

"She had her face pressed against the window.  I just saw it for a few seconds, but she was looking at you, and then at me.  I think I saw her screaming.  It was bizarre."

He reached across the table and took her hand.  "Did you know her?"

She shook her head.  "No."

Donovan held his tongue, but he was disturbed.  He made a mental note to have Cody find out who each and every inmate was, just in case.  Something was not right.  Staying in 'protection' mode, he said, "Don't give yourself another reason to worry, Loralei.  This may sound a bit harsh, but Rockbridge _is_ a mental facility, and the inmates _will_ act strange and violent."

"I know," she said.  "I will fret no more."  Would she?

*  *  *

Loralei entered the apartment behind Donovan.  Before she closed the door, she collected the few pieces of mail that had arrived during their absence.  There was a neon green envelope tucked neatly between a few pieces of junk mail and a letter from Donovan's brother.  The writing was the same as the first.  The postmark was even the same.  The only difference was the color.

"Frank?"

At the sound of her distressed voice, he turned toward her.  He saw the envelope and immediately knew what it was.  He approached her slowly and took it from her shaking hands.  Morbid curiosity ruled him and he tore it open.  Another hideous homemade card slid out.  It was as green as its envelope with only a streak of smeared red ink, perhaps from a marker, across the outside.  He opened the card carefully.  _Come see me.  I'll come see you.  Until then…have a happy life_.


	6. Carly, Kelly, and Confessions

CHAPTER 5—CARLY, KELLY, AND CONFESSIONS

Every Sunday at Rockbridge, some of the more lucid 'patients' were given the opportunity to come out of their 'rooms' to watch television or to enjoy the sun filtering in through the barred windows of the big room laughingly called the 'recreation center.'  There wasn't much 'recreation' to the room, of course.  It was furnished with several tables and chairs that were bolted to the floor.  The staff couldn't have the 'patients' throwing chairs at each other.  The television dominated the room.  It hung suspended in air, bolted to the wall, and incased in a cage.  They were allowed to watch only two channels [an all-weather station and one that showed Rated G movies], and if that didn't interest them, they were free to sit at the tables and gaze out the window in a deeply drugged daze.  There were several staff members present in the room to keep the 'patients' from getting into fights.  How could those drugged so thoroughly _even _fight?  

Black Heart enjoyed those rare Sundays when she was allowed to go into the room.  It was the only time she felt normal.  The staff allowed her access even though she had cut up in front of the Donovans the day before.  She wasn't interested in television, world politics, or global warming.  What she was interested in was the window, and what it represented to her.  Freedom.  Sweet freedom.  It was on days like this that she thought about plans of escape.  She had stockpiled dozens of pills in the last few months.  When her cell was shaken down, she'd hide them in bits of plastic in various orifices on her person.  Her first plan was to drug one of the guards.  However, hardly any of them had gotten close enough for her to make a move.  The tall linebacker'ish guard had been assigned to her block, and he was as immovable as his size indicated.  If another guard could just be assigned…

She looked up as another inmate entered the room.  She noticed that the woman was timidly approaching her.  _I don't do girls_, she thought viciously.  If she even _acted_ like she wanted to touch her, Black Heart would beat her senseless.  She noticed that the pale blonde woman had a magazine in her hand.  Ah, yes.  This was the loony chick obsessed with bridal magazines.  She hadn't seen her very often, because the Bridal Babe didn't come to the room.  She mostly stayed in her cell and pored over her magazines and newspapers.  _What does she want with me_, she wondered.  Bridal Babe stood staring at her for quite some time.  If she didn't say or do something, Black Heart would make her eat her magazine page by page.  Just as she was about to make her vicious move, Bridal Babe approached a table directly in front of her and sat down with her magazine.  She began thumbing through the pages while softly humming the wedding march.  _What a psycho_, she thought.

Black Heart looked up in surprise as Bridal Babe turned to look at her.  "Excuse me," she asked with a sweet smile framing her lips.  "May I ask you a question?"

_Of course you may_, she wanted to shout, _and when you do, I'm going to poke out your eyes_.  "What do you want," she demanded.

She giggled shyly.  "Oh, please don't be offended, Carly.  My name is Kelly Bartlet, and I've been here a long, long time.  Did you have visitors yesterday?"

She snarled as she thought of Loralei and Frank Donovan.  Visitors hell!  "Why should you fucking care?  They weren't my kissing cousins, that's for damn sure.  They put me here!"

Bridal Babe giggled again.  "Oh, my, how you must hate them.  Was the man named Frank Donovan by any chance?"

Suddenly, Black Heart became interested.  Did this nutcase know Donovan?  "Yes."

The other woman nodded firmly, but lost her smile.  "Thought so.  I actually need to settle some _issues_ with Frankie and his wife.  Would you like to help me?"

Oh yes.  She would.  She would indeed.  "Can you get us out of here?"

Her grin came back.  "Oh yes.  I have a bit of inside information.  Our good Mr. Guard won't be here this afternoon.  Poor dearie, he called in with a widdle cold.  Our guard will be a lady tonight."

*  *  *

Donovan left Loralei in bed as he made his way toward headquarters.  He had called in the team [with all protesting viciously].  One way or another, they were going to get to the bottom of this card issue.  He made it in first and climbed the stairs two at a time to his office.  Even on a Sunday, he had connections, and he made a couple of phone calls to have Rockbridge inspected thoroughly.  He was convinced that the cards were coming from the facility, but he hadn't discovered the who, how, and why.  As soon as Cody arrived, he would have the entire inmate base searched until he was satisfied.

Jake stumbled in first.  He had a hangover from partying too much the night before, and he grumbled incoherently, calling Donovan every name in the book for dragging him out of bed on a Sunday.  When there _were_ quiet Sunday mornings, he usually spent them catching an extra few winks, but no, not today.  He didn't see the boss at first, but noticed that his office door was cracked open just the slightest bit.  Taking a chance, he climbed upstairs and pecked on the door.  He entered the room without giving Donovan the chance to yell at him.  The boss sat staring intensely at his computer monitor.  It appeared as if he had thrown on the first clothes he touched.

"What's going on," Jake mumbled through his hangover.

Donovan looked up, acknowledging Jake's presence.  Without a word, he slid the neon green envelope toward him.  "This was awaiting us when we came back from Rockbridge."

"Another one," he asked stupidly.  Of course, it was another one.  _Damn hangover_.

"Hooooooo hoooooooo," Cody called from downstairs.  "Anyone home?"

Donovan grabbed the envelope and made his way downstairs.  "Cody, I want you to check out Rockbridge Hospital.  Give me a list of every inmate that has been there for the past ten years.  Can you do that?"

Cody nodded.  "Easy.  A toddler could get that.  What's up?"

Donovan jerked his head toward the second card still in Jake's hands.  "This is up.  I think the sender is at Rockbridge.  Don't just stand there, Cody, get on this.  _Now_."

"Sure sure," Cody said hastily.  "I was on it five minutes ago."

*  *  *

Donovan paced back and forth between both Monica and Cody.  Every now and then, he would stop and breathe down their necks, frustrated that the search was taking too long.  Both of them had been working on the task for about two hours.  There were hundreds of names and Cody had begun printing them as soon as he churned them out of Rockbridge's records bank.  Donovan scanned the lists page by page, but didn't recognize one name.  _Fuck it, _he thought.  They were getting nowhere fast.  What made it worse for him was that he felt he _should_ know.  Something, some tiny piece of his memory hung onto the clue that would put an end to this hideous game.  He wanted to rip the pages to shreds, throw the pieces on the floor, and set them afire.  However, a tantrum wouldn't allay his fear or concerns.He stopped pacing for a moment to gain control of his temper.  Absently, he caressed the nape of his neck as he felt a tension headache building.  To keep from clenching and unclenching his fist, he stuffed his left hand into the pocket of his jeans.  It hit something hard and plastic.  He then remembered what brought about this sudden urgency.

The night before, neither he nor Loralei had been thrilled about receiving the new card.  Donovan expected his wife to become withdrawn again, but she didn't.  She had been upset, of course, but not like the first time.  They had put the card away hastily, and he had assured her that he would have the hospital records checked out thoroughly.  He intended to have the hospital inspected, and would arrange that on Monday.  There was fear, concern, and a few tears, but no urgency.  Loralei had stuffed the card into a dresser drawer just before they went to bed.  She had made good on her promise not to dwell on Black Heart.  _It's fine, we can work on this_, she had said.  _I'm not pleased in the slightest, Frank, but I trust you.  I trust that if anyone can find out who this is, it's you and your team_.  No urgency.  None.  Yet, it had changed the moment Donovan peered into the drawer.  

He went toward the dresser with the intention of retrieving the card.  He had simply wanted to study it, to see if it could open his stubbornly closed memory.  He had the card in his hands and nearly shut the drawer until something else caught his eye.  It was a white plastic case, similar in size and shape as a compact.  This was Loralei's drawer.  In it, she kept several different things such as makeup, perfume, and birth control pills.  He recalled voicing his suspicions of her being pregnant the day before, and he remembered her 'I take them faithfully' comment.  He was tempted to check it out, to see if she did, in fact, take them.  At the last moment, he changed his mind and shut the drawer.  They'd discussed having children, they wanted children, but Loralei hadn't wanted to become pregnant right away.  He _wanted_ her to be pregnant, wanted it so badly that he couldn't stand it, but he also wanted to respect her wish to wait.  Still, he was suspicious, and wanted-no-_needed_ to know.  He went back to the dresser and slid the drawer open.  He picked up the case and popped up the lid.  What he saw inside it shocked him.  Every single pill was still inside, untouched.  He had started to place it back where he found it, but Loralei stirred in bed behind him, and he stuffed it into his pocket and hastily shut the drawer.  Suddenly, everything had changed.  Suddenly, the need to find the person responsible became urgent.  There appeared to be more at stake right now than ever before.  Donovan wanted to talk to her about it immediately, but his need to solve this perplexing mystery was greater.  They would talk, but first, he had to find a suspect.

"Boss?"

He snapped out of his daze and fixed his eyes on Cody's face.  "What is it?"

Cody handed him a stack of paper.  "More names."

He took the stack of paper and leaned against a table behind him.  He divided the pages and handed a stack to Alex and another to Jake.  "As before, call out each name."  Carefully, meticulously, he went over every name on his stack as Alex and Jake called out the names on their lists.  He shook his head almost constantly as he skimmed his own.  Nothing.  Another brick wall had begun making its way toward him.

"Kelly Bartlet," Alex said.

At first, Donovan shook his head.  It was almost an automatic response.  He stopped for a moment and focused his eyes on Alex's face.  "What was that name again?"

"Kelly Bartlet."

_Dear God_, he thought.  _Kelly Bartlet_.  How long had it been?  Ten years?  The last time he saw her, she was in the hospital digging bloody grooves on her face.  He had all but forgotten her.  He shook his head.  No, that wasn't true.  He hadn't forgotten her, but he had effectively buried her.  She haunted his dreams at night, had done so for years.  _Kelly Bartlet._  The memories came flooding back.  She had nearly killed him after he broke off their relationship.  He had driven her over the edge and had been responsible for her committal.  This incredible ghost had come back seeking revenge, seeking his soul.  Although he had vowed not to do it, he had put Loralei right into the line of fire once again.  She [and their child (?)] was set to pay for what he'd done.  The woman Loralei had seen, the one in a cell just down from the Black Heart had to have been Kelly.  

"Donovan?  Boss?"

He looked over at Jake.  He absently nodded his head.  "It's her.  It's Kelly Bartlet."

"Who is Kelly Bartlet?"

He didn't answer, he couldn't.  He ran back upstairs and grabbed the phone.  He didn't notice, but his team had followed his lead and they stood in the doorway, peering cautiously into the office.  He waited impatiently for the other line to be answered, and when it was, he barked, "I don't care what you have to do.  You find Counselor Hall and get his ass on the phone.  Tell him it's Frank Donovan.  If he doesn't call in the next fifteen minutes, I'm coming up there and I will not hesitate to kick his ass out of bed."  The team watched, fascinated, as he fixed his eyes on his watch.  He wasn't kidding.  He was actually _timing _it.  "Dig up everything you can on Fred Hall," Donovan spat toward Cody.  "Bring it to me in fifteen minutes."

There was no way Cody would try to yank Donovan's chain today.  He didn't appear to be in the mood to tolerate it.  Without a smart comeback, he went downstairs with Monica on his heels.  Alex and Jake remained standing just at the door.  Donovan stared down at his watch and maintained his usual icy exterior.  

Within five minutes, Monica shuttled back upstairs carrying another sheaf of papers.  Donovan said nothing; he nodded his gratitude and went about the task of reading the information emotionlessly.  He quickly discovered that Fred Hall had a few ethics charges in his colorful past, including inmate brutality.  He wondered vaguely if the man had lied to secure his current position.

"Who is Kelly Bartlet," Alex asked, cutting through his enraged fog.  "Why is she sending the cards to you?"

He was about to open his mouth to respond, but the phone rang suddenly, drawing his attention away.  He swooped it up after the second ring.  "Donovan," he spat.

"Mr. Donovan," Counselor Hall spat.  "Why are you demanding to speak to me on a Sunday morning?  I thought we had our _issues_ cleared up."

Donovan gritted his teeth.  It took extreme control for him not to yell.  "My wife and I received another card yesterday.  This card came from your facility.  I cannot prove it, but I'm almost positive it came from one of your inmates, not Carly Butler.  It came from Kelly Bartlet.  You do have her there, correct?"

"Kelly Bartlet?  Mr. Donovan, Ms. Bartlet is continually medicated, and has never caused us any problems."

He closed his eyes and gripped the phone tightly.  He wanted to wrap his hands around Hall's throat.  "Kelly Bartlet tried to kill me.  She has found me, and I believe she intends to harm my wife.  Shake down her cell immediately, Counselor Hall.  I want it done right now.  I have two agents en route as we speak.  They will report to me as soon as they arrive.  If it's not completed by then, I will deal with you personally.  Do we understand each other?"

"Yes," he said stiffly.  

"If anything is found during the shake down, I will see to it that you never work in corrections again.  I mean exactly what I say, I do not make idle threats."  Without another word to the man, he hung up the phone.  Shocked, Jake and Alex peered at him.  His behavior reminded them of the rogue Donovan, the man who nearly lost his mind.  "You heard what I said," he told them.  "The hospital is about two and a half hours away.  Question every guard, every employee.  If Hall has hidden any evidence, take him into custody immediately.  _Move_."

Donovan followed the two agents downstairs.  As soon as they were gone, he glanced at Cody and Monica.  "I have to take care of something at home.  I'll be back."

*  *  *

Loralei had just gotten out of bed when Donovan arrived.  She had felt crappy all morning, and could do little else but sleep.  She was just slipping into her robe as her husband entered the room.  He watched her with cautious eyes, immediately noticing the pale tone of her skin.  He would deal with his suspicions later.  Right now, he had to tell her about Kelly Bartlet.

"Where did you go," she asked.

"I had to deal with the cards.  I know who it is."

She cocked her head curiously to the side and gazed at him.  His face was drawn into its usual unreadable expression.  "Who?  How did you find out?"

"I think you should sit down for this," he said.  He stood back and watched as she sat down on the foot of the bed.  She wanted him to join her, but he didn't move.  "Her name is Kelly Bartlet, and I met her several years ago while attending college.  We began dating casually, but our relationship grew intense really fast.  Eventually, she moved in with me.  She became obsessive shortly thereafter, and tried to give me everything she thought I wanted.  I asked her to leave, but she thought I was going to ask her to marry me.  Something happened to her, I don't know what, and she broke.  She tried to run me down one morning on campus.  I went with her to the hospital, but when she saw me, she began screaming and clawing at her face.  I wanted to help her, to try to repair some of the damage I caused, but I couldn't.  I walked away like a coward, and I never thought of her again.  She suffered while I went on with my life as if she didn't exist. I did this to her, I hurt her, and now she's trying to hurt us."

Loralei was stunned, almost too stunned to speak.  "Why didn't you know this before?  Why didn't you think of her sooner?"

He sighed and shook his head.  "I had her buried, Loralei, buried so deeply in the back of my mind that I only saw her in nightmares.  I _couldn't _know, _didn't_ know, not until I heard her name.  I'm afraid she wants _you_ to pay for something _I_ did."

"The woman I saw?  It was her," she spat suddenly.

"Yes, I'm certain it was.  It was never Black Heart, it was Kelly."  He approached her and knelt down before her, placing his body snuggly between her thighs.  "After the widow nearly killed you, I vowed to do everything in my power to ensure that you were never hurt again.  I've failed, Loralei."

She ran her hand over his cheek and through his hair.  He would never show his vulnerable side to anyone other than her.  "No, Frank, you haven't failed.  Not at all," she whispered.  "You've _never_ failed me.  _Never_.  What you did wasn't cowardly, what you did was cope the best way you knew how.  You protected yourself, and there's nothing wrong with that.  What happened to her was something she did to herself."  She placed her hands on his shoulders as if bracing him against some sort of shocking news.  "Baby, I hate to break it to you, but your ego is out of control.  You're good, but not _that_ good.  After all, look at me, I'm still sane."

He closed his eyes and sighed.  Donovan found himself thinking again that this was no joking matter.  However, it was either laugh or cry, and he chose the former.  "What would I do without you," he asked as he gazed into her eyes steadily and intensely.

"I'm not sure," she said, "and I hope we never have to find out."

"Loralei, there's something I need to know," he said.  

She watched as he moved back to dig something out of his pocket.  To her utter amazement, he pulled out the plastic compact thingy which held that 'wonderful invention' she had been skipping lately.  Of course _skipping_ wasn't the exact truth.  It was more along the lines of not taking them _period_.

Her pale face began to darken a bit as she realized she had been caught in a little white lie.  "Uh oh," she said.  "Busted."

"You are?  Really?"

She nodded.  "Uh huh.  About six weeks."

"And your reason for not telling me?"

She gazed down into his dark eyes.  He wasn't angry, but he wouldn't leave until she confessed.  "I was going to tell you the night we came home, but that little pink envelope interrupted my plans.  I didn't want you to have to worry about me on top of everything else.  You've known all morning, haven't you?  Hell, you knew yesterday.  When you saw those pills, what ran through your mind?  I'll bet you had everybody jumping through hoops this morning, didn't you?  You didn't need that kind of pressure."

"Yes, I called the entire team in, and I did have them jumping through hoops," he confessed.  "You must understand that the need to find this person, to deal with her, to deal with the hospital became extremely urgent.  Not only did I have your safety to consider, but I also had to think about our child.  I _do not_ want to lose either of you.  Even if I hadn't been suspicious, even if I hadn't found out, I would have worked tirelessly to keep you out of harm's way.  I won't ever let you suffer due to a mistake I have made.  Never again do I want to see you take your last breath."  Donovan then stood and brought her up with him.  He took her into his embrace and kissed her very gently.  "I have to get back."

"What's going to happen now?"

He shook his head.  "Honestly, I don't know.  I hope the threats I made to Fred Hall will be enough, but I sincerely doubt it.  Jake and Alex are on their way to make sure Kelly's cell is clean.  I don't expect it to be."

Frowning now, she asked, "It's not going to be easy, is it?"

He shook his head.  "No.  We're good as long as she remains locked away.  Irregardless of that, I want you to pack up some things and go to your parents for a couple of weeks."

"Frank," she began.

"Don't argue with me, please," he said softly.  "I won't have you here with her knowing where we live.  I don't care if she _is_ locked down.  I'm not willing to risk it.  You can come home when it's clear.  I'll call you every day."

"I won't go," she said stubbornly.  "I won't leave you."

"Please, Loralei.  Do this for me.  Get a flight out tonight if you can."

Without giving her a chance to argue, he gave her another brief kiss before leaving her.  


	7. Shakedown

CHAPTER 6—SHAKEDOWN

Alex and Jake were taken aback by the imposing hospital.  They'd never seen the place before, and they really didn't want to see it this time, either, but they had no choice.  If they didn't report to Donovan soon, they wouldn't doubt he'd storm in and start kicking asses, beginning with theirs.

*  *  *

Kelly watched in confusion as three guards converged onto her tiny cell.  What were they doing?  In the decade she'd been housed here, her cell might have been shaken down three or four times.  She played the role of the good girl patient.  Without protesting, she took her medication and followed the rules.  She had always had thoughts of revenge in mind, but hadn't followed through with any plans until she saw the wedding announcement.  Even then, she hadn't done anything more than making those innocent little cards.  No one ever cared that she had access to items considered taboo.  They didn't understand.  Frankie had to pay.  If he had done to them what he did to her, they would understand.  She allowed the shakedown with little fuss.  She watched as they confiscated her heavy construction paper, her pens, pencils, and markers.  _Let them take it, let them take it all_, she thought.  It didn't matter, because by tonight, she would be free.  After tonight, she and Carly would descend upon the Donovans and make their lives sheer hell.  She wanted Frankie.  Carly could take care of the little wife.

*  *  *

Counselor Hall stood behind his desk and stared down at the materials seized from Kelly Bartlet's cell.  The items were perfectly harmless, of course.  There was a package of heavy construction paper, colored pens and pencils, and markers of various shapes and sizes.  It was craft making stuff; stuff that people used to make their own homemade cards.  Ms. Bartlet had obviously been very busy lately.  This did not bode well for him, especially when Frank Donovan got wind of it.  The agent had claimed that he did not make idle threats, but if he were to toss the crap aside and pretend nothing had been found, he could evade Donovan's wrath.  _What's the big deal, anyway_, he thought.  They had received a couple of handmade cards from a mentally disturbed woman who was safely locked behind a steel door.  There was no chance that Kelly Bartlet would be released.  She wasn't at Rockbridge for solely running down Frank Donovan as a young coed.  She had been brought here from Massachusetts after murdering two nurses at the hospital while trying to escape.  This was something Donovan obviously didn't know.  He also didn't know that Kelly Bartlet had been psychotic and obsessive most of her young life.  Of course, it didn't matter.  He would toss the materials and never breathe a word to anyone.  His staff would back him up.  Then after this day, he would ensure that Ms. Bartlet would never handle craft materials again.  Quietly, carefully, he gathered up the materials and placed them neatly into a small box.  They had an incinerator down in the basement that would effectively destroy everything.   

"I don't think that is such a good idea," a voice said.

The LC looked up suddenly, completely not expecting anyone to enter his office on a Sunday.  A young swarthy man and a woman with striking eyes stood in the doorway of his office.  He immediately noticed that they were armed.  His eyes also identified what appeared to be police-type shields hanging from clips at their waists.  _What the hell_?  Donovan hadn't been bluffing at all.  He was looking at two very pissed off federal agents.  Suddenly, his heart began to beat sickly in his chest.  He was fucked and fucked good.

*  *  *

Donovan sat in his office with his head in his hands.  He had yet to hear from Alex and Jake.  He was certain they had made it to Rockbridge.  If he didn't hear from them in the next half hour, he would make his own trip back.  In the last two hours, he had called home six or seven times.  Each time he dialed the number, it was busy.  _Good_, he thought.  He hoped she was on the phone with the airline making travel arrangements.  He knew she wasn't happy about leaving, and he didn't want her to go, but he could not allow her to stay, not until the situation with Kelly Bartlet was settled.  

The only thing nagging at him now was how Bartlet had gotten their mailing address.  They had only lived in the apartment for about six months.  Neither of them had wanted to stay at his old place, there were too many bad memories associated with it.  However, for Donovan, there was more.  The spot where Loralei had fallen after being shot seemed eternally stained by her blood.  He wasn't sure if his eyes had played tricks on him or if the blood had actually penetrated the floor as easily as it had penetrated his heart and soul.  Despite installing new carpeting and cleaning the floor, it never went away.  It stayed there, haunting him.  He didn't want to begin his married life looking at those stains every day.  He couldn't do it.  After Loralei was released from the hospital, they moved in to her tiny apartment across town.  They stayed there an additional two months after the Black Heart's trial before settling on a new place not far from the old one, but still far enough away not to taint their happiness.  Yet, it hadn't worked, had it?  An insane ghost from his gilded past had found them, and she was intent on destroying his life.  The best way to hurt him was to attack the people dearest to his heart.

He picked up the phone and dialed his home number again.  This time, it only rang.  Loralei wasn't home.  He breathed a heavy sigh of anguished relief and was grateful that she hadn't fought him on this.  She was stubborn sometimes, almost more than he.  He left her, hoping that she understood the urgency, the sheer seriousness of the situation.  No words in the English language could stress the importance of having her out of that apartment, away from yet another threat to not only her life, but also to their unborn child as well.  He dropped the phone back onto its cradle and sat back in his chair.  He would deal with Kelly Bartlet.  He would face her again.  This time, he would not run away.  This time, he would not back down.

"Frank?"

The voice brought him out of his daze.  Surely he hadn't heard what he thought he did.  Surely she hadn't decided to be stubborn.  Surprised, he turned toward Loralei.  He wasn't supposed to be looking at her or hearing her voice.  She was supposed to be at the airport awaiting a flight out to Missouri.  "Loralei?  What the hell are you doing here?"  He watched as she quietly walked around the side of his desk to face him.  He focused his dark eyes on her face, fixing her with a pissed off, worried gaze.  "I don't want you to stay here right now.  Didn't I make that clear enough?"

She placed her hand on his cheek as he tried his best to stare straight through her.  His anger was so acute that his body was almost quaking.  _And he wondered why I didn't tell him about the baby sooner_, she thought.  Sighing, she said, "You have a lot of control over a lot of people, places, and things, but you can't control flight schedules, Frank.  The first available flight out is on Tuesday.  The rest are booked solid."

He covered her hand with his and brought it down off his face.  "You're kidding, right?  Don't you think I know what you're doing, Loralei?  You _must _leave immediately.  It's not safe for you here.  Don't you understand?  Can you do this one thing for me, for us, without your bullheaded stubbornness?  I'm asking-no-_begging_ you to listen to me.  After this is over, I don't care if you ever honor another request I make for the rest of my life.  Just this once, baby, _please_."

His last five words were hurled at her through gritted teeth.  It had been several months since he had been this upset with her.  She knew he wasn't exactly angry.  He was addled more by anxiety than anything else.  "I promise you, Frank, I tried.  There's nothing available.  Call behind me if you want.  You're right, I don't want to leave.  I'd rather stay here and help you with this.  You're not the only one in this marriage who worries, Frank.  I know you're afraid something will happen to me, to the baby, and I don't intend to fight you.  I can't leave today or tonight."

"You _can_ leave."  He slipped his hand into his pocket and dug out his car keys.  He laid them out on his desk and slid them toward her.  He focused his eyes on her face again.  "Go back home and call your parents.  Tell them you're driving up tonight so they'll be expecting you.  It would take no more than seven or eight hours.  If you understand, if you don't want to fight me on this, then go.  Go now."

Not taking her eyes off his, she reached across the desk and grabbed the keys.  Before she backed away, he took hold of her arm and drew her across his lap.  His lips took hers gently, but the kiss deepened very quickly as her lips parted against his.  He didn't want to let her go, but he had no choice.  Every moment she lingered with him made her departure even harder to bare.  Reluctantly, he broke the kiss.

"Loralei," he said, "I need you to go."

She stood and moved a few steps away from him.  "I'm going."  She turned away from him and made her way toward the door.  Before exiting, she turned to glance at him over her shoulder.  He had not taken his eyes off her.  His gaze was intense and unfaltering.  "I love you."

He nodded.  "And I you, my love."

Once she was out of his line of vision, he glanced down at his watch.  Too much time had passed with no word from either Jake or Alex.  He stood, with the intention of asking to borrow either Monica's or Cody's car so that he could make his way toward Rockbridge.  He had time enough to get to the door before the phone started ringing.  He darted back toward the desk and swooped up the phone.  "Donovan," he spat.

"It's Alex," she said.  "Before you start yelling, we had a slight problem here at Rockbridge.  Your hunch about Fred Hall was right.  We caught him trying to discard some very interesting evidence seized from Kelly Bartlet's room.  She had tons of craft-type materials in her cell, including heavy construction paper and card stock.  We checked with every staff member currently on duty, and all concurred that Bartlet's cell hadn't been shaken down in about a year.  They also found the address of Bartlet's aunt.  Jake is speaking with her on the phone right now, but we're certain that she mailed cards for Bartlet from the Chicago area."

Donovan felt his blood begin to boil.  If his hands could reach into the phone line, he would throttle Fred Hall.  "What about Kelly Bartlet," he asked.  "Is she secure?"

"Yes.  But you had a right to worry.  A wedding announcement was found among dozens of bridal magazines, it was yours and Loralei's.  She appeared to be targeting Loralei as well as you."

He caressed the bridge of his nose, thankful that he had sent Loralei away.  "Thank you," he said.  "Before you leave, find out who Hall's superior is, and contact him.  Tell him to call me here as soon as possible.  I'll be seeing Ms. Bartlet tomorrow."

"I don't know if that's advisable at this point, Boss."

"I don't care," he said firmly, stiffly.  "This is something I should have done ten years ago.  It is something I must do now, for her sake as well as mine."

*  *  *

Kelly didn't think the federal agents were ever going to leave.  She was more than certain they were associated with Frankie in some way.  She had never seen them before, but their visit was too close to Frankie's the day before.  Her cell was now completely stripped of every personal item that had once been in her possession.  She didn't care what they took as long as they left.  If they didn't leave, hers and Carly's escape plans would be shelved for tonight.  She couldn't have that.  Kelly paced the short length of her cell restlessly.  The agents had to leave, they had to leave _now_.  Frankie had the ability to spoil every damn thing, but he _would not_ spoil this for her.  During one of her brief passes around the room, she stopped and peered out the window.  They were leaving.  Yes oh yes.

*  *  *

The guard on Carly and Kelly's row was a petite spitfire known to all as "Kit."  Kit normally worked the day shift, but earlier today, she had been called in to work second.  She hated working second shift, but the giant guard whose place she was taking was a friend of hers.  He had worked in her place countless times, and she figured she owed him at least one favor.  Kit was hesitant about taking her co-worker's row because there were a couple of really loony chicks there.  Working with the mentally disturbed didn't really bother her, but these girls took the cake, literally.  One of them was some whacked out serial killer with an affinity for murdering her husbands.  The other was some poor, sad sap who looked at bridal magazines endlessly.  Nuts.  They were nothing but nuts.

As soon as Kit signed in, she noticed that something was going down inside the LC's office.  She had no idea that it was _he_ who was going down.  She shrugged it off and forgot about it.  The LC was just as creepy as some of the inmates.  She looked at the logbook and noticed that it was nearly time to pass out the evening medication.  She didn't like that task, either.  It required actually stepping in the cell and making contact.  Whatever happened to the days where a poor working gal could just shove the shit under the door and go?  Sighing at her shitty lot in life, she went to the medication room [yes, folks, _room_] where dozens of bottles of drugs waited for distribution.  Kit had to sign in for that as well.  There was a camera recording her every move, ensuring that she didn't palm a couple of xanax.  She collected a couple dozen paper cups to medicate her row, and she set about her task.

*  *  *

Black Heart lay in wait.  It was her job to take down the guard known as "Kit."  She had been chosen for this particular duty because her body type and coloring matched Kit's more than Kelly's did.  Their escape plan wasn't elaborate, it was more like an old prison standby, but it was the only thing they had.  Hopefully, it would be enough to free them so they could each carry out their plans.  After their deeds were done, Black Heart intended to rid herself of Bridal Babe through any means necessary.  If they had to wait another week, they'd be screwed.  The hospital intended to move her to a special 'Hannibal Lector' type room due to her violent nature.  

Kit left the two craziest inmates for last.  She went in and administered Bartlet's medication without incident.  She didn't like how the other woman seemed to leer at her, but she shrugged it off.  She had to get moving.  One more psycho and she could take a smoke break.  She turned from Kelly Bartlet's cell and made her way toward that of Carly Butler.  Kit inserted the large square key into the lock and shot it home.  When she opened the door, she saw that Carly was in bed.  She jumped as the door clicked closed behind her.  She sighed in frustration.  Now she'd have to unlock the fucking door just to get out.

"Come on, Butler, time for your meddy side," she sang.

Black Heart reared up off her cot suddenly, striking the guard in the face.  The perfect soundproof walls absorbed the noise beautifully.  Black Heart came down on top of Kit, and she never knew what hit her.  "You should really think about beefing up your security," Black Heart said as she stripped Kit's uniform off her.

*  *  *

"Okay, you.  Move it," she barked at Kelly Bartlet.

Another guard glanced over at Kit as she shoved the inmate along.  "Hey, Kit?  Where you going with Bartlet?"

"She left something in the rec room.  I have to get it for her before she flips out," Black Heart said gruffly, passably imitating the now deceased guard.

Before they slipped off to the recreation room, Black Heart led Bridal Babe over to the one blind spot where there were no cameras.  It was in the employee dressing room.  Black Heart found a supply closet with extra scrub outfits.  Hastily, she dug one out and handed it to her.  Bridal Babe giggled the whole time she was undressing.

"Cut the shit," Black Heart hissed.  "Do you want to get caught?"

Once they were both dressed and incognito, all they had to do was unlock the back employee entrance and slip out the door.  The plan was so brilliant that Black Heart wondered why she hadn't thought of doing this months ago.  Of course, tonight was the first night their guard had been so little and weak.  Their row was supposed to be manned by specially trained men and women.  Apparently, Kit hadn't been trained so well.

*  *  *

The bloody, beaten body of the guard known to all as "Kit" wasn't found for an hour or more.  She wouldn't have been found at all if the lead guard on duty hadn't been searching for Kit.  One of his subordinates said he saw her leading another inmate to the recreation room.  He didn't find anyone there.  Frustrated, he sighed and decided to do Kit's rounds for her.  Once he found Kit, he was going to thoroughly bitch her out.  He shined his flashlight into Carly Butler's cell and saw the crumpled body on the floor.  It took another half hour to discover that Kelly Bartlet was missing from her cell.

Nothing was sweeter than freedom.  


	8. Mass Confusion

CHAPTER 7—MASS CONFUSION

Loralei threw the large duffel bag she had snagged from her husband's closet into the trunk of the car.  She hadn't packed much, because she didn't intend to stay there very long.  Her parents were thrilled to have her, but they didn't quite understand her sudden decision to visit them.  They had last seen her only a few weeks ago at the wedding.  She didn't tell them about the baby, and probably wouldn't for a while.  She simply didn't want to jinx it.  After climbing behind the wheel of the car, she sat and stared straight ahead for twenty minutes or more.  She debated with her conscious the entire time, trying to decide whether to stay or go.  Her brain pushed her onward, but her heart wanted to keep her with Donovan.  If she stayed, he would never forgive her.  If she left, she would never forgive herself.  Pitifully, she buried her face in her hands and began to sob uncontrollably.  This entire horrible situation had literally torn her apart.  She didn't want to go, but she couldn't stay.  Right at that moment, she wanted her husband in her arms, wanted to forget all about the hell that had come to revisit them.  She needed him to hold her, needed the comfort of his warm embrace.  It took a long time for her to calm down.  Struggling mightily against her inner demons, she revved the engine to life and put the car in gear.  At the first rest stop, she intended to call Donovan; she had to hear his voice.

*  *  *

Although he hated himself for doubting his wife, Donovan borrowed Cody's car to ensure that Loralei had gone.  He was somewhat relieved not to see his car parked in the garage, but of course, that didn't mean anything.  She could have simply moved it to another slot.  He hadn't wanted to send her away, hadn't wanted to be separated from her for five minutes, and he hoped she hadn't decided to go against his wishes.  He slid the car into a vacant parking slot and vacated the vehicle as quickly as possible.  He trotted up several flights of stairs until he made it up to their floor.  _Please don't let her be in here_, he thought as he stared at the door.  He unlocked the door and pushed it open.  The darkened living room lifted some of the weight off his shoulders, but it still didn't exactly prove anything.  He wasn't completely satisfied until he searched the entire apartment and discovered that his duffel bag was missing.  He checked the closet and found that some of her clothing was missing as well.  _Thank God_.  Donovan found himself gazing down at the bed.  At that moment, he felt a tremendous ache in his heart.  He wanted to hold his wife in his arms and forget everything, even if it was just for one night.  Immensely depressed now, he left the bedroom and reentered the living room.  He needed to leave, needed to get out.  Here, he could only think about Loralei.  He grabbed Cody's key-filled ring and almost had his hand on the doorknob.  Something stopped him.  He wasn't sure what drew his attention to the mail.  He hadn't even glanced at it since Saturday night.

Absently, he approached the low credenza where they stacked unopened mail, key rings, magazines, etc.  His eyes fell on a letter from his brother.  It had been in the stack with the neon green card from Kelly Bartlet, but he had been so concerned about Loralei and the baby that he hadn't given it a second thought.  He knew he shouldn't focus on it now.  After all, he had more than enough to occupy his mind without throwing another piece of grief into the mixing bowl.  Some weird impulse drew him to the letter.  He picked up the envelope and stared down at it for what seemed like a dry age.  Donovan hadn't heard from his brother in over a year.  He had sent him a wedding invitation, but never received an RSVP.  It was typical.  The Donovan brothers had never meshed well.  He had little patience with fuck ups, and his brother fit that mode well.  It seemed as if he consistently _tried_ to get into trouble.  Donovan loved his brother, but neither could ever get along with the other.  So, he didn't understand why he would write after all this time.  _What have you done now, Farron_, he wondered.

Already disturbed by having to send his wife away, nothing his brother had to say would shock him further.  He tore open the envelope and briefly skimmed over Farron's usual bullshit.  The only thing that caught his attention was his casual mentioning of having spoken to a relative of one of his old flames.  _Wasn't Kelly Bartlet your girlfriend once_, he had asked.  _The most bizarre thing happened to me a couple of weeks ago.  Kelly's aunt called and said she wanted to send you and your new wife a wedding present_.  Donovan didn't bother reading further, didn't bother to read any explanation Farron might have included.  He balled up the letter in his fist.  He finally understood how Kelly had gotten his and Loralei's address.  _Goddamn you_, he thought, ready to kill his brother.  Farron knew that his status was such that he just couldn't give his address out to anybody.  Yet, he gave it to the very person that shouldn't have _ever_ found him again.  His brother had no idea, no idea at all.  Donovan hadn't mentioned to his family what transpired between him and Kelly.  He had wanted to bury it, to put it behind him, to run from it.  It wasn't Farron's fault at all, but he was so angry he could hardly think straight.  Without hesitation, he tossed the letter and its envelope into the trashcan.  He would deal with Farron later.  Right now, he had too much on his mind, and his brother could wait.

*  *  *

Loralei had driven for thirty minutes or more in total silence, and she couldn't stand it any longer.  She jabbed at the power key on the car stereo and soft music wafted from the speakers.  _Oh, hell no_.  She loved her husband, but he had shitty taste in music.  This hideous Wal-Mart music was absolutely dreadful.  She had a long trip ahead of her, and couldn't spend it listening to music that would induce her into a deep coma.  She punched the preset buttons, knowing that her favorite stations were in there somewhere.  She heard the clash of drums and a screaming guitar.  _Ah, here we go_.  The driving hard rock music began to pump adrenaline through her, and for the first time since leaving, she felt halfway okay.  However, it was a false sense of well-being.

A song was interrupted by a news bulletin:  "Two patients escaped tonight from Rockbridge Hospital.  They have been identified as Kelly Bartlet and Carly Butler.  Carly Butler is the notorious Black Heart Killer responsible for a string of murders in at least five states…"

She heard nothing further after that.  Her mind went numb, blank, and dead.  Escape?  Impossible.  Not together.  Not those two.  She didn't have to think very hard to know where they were destined to appear.  _Am I dreaming_, she thought.  _I must be dreaming.  I must have fallen asleep at the wheel.  Maybe I didn't change the station fast enough and I have been lulled asleep.  Any moment now, the car will careen off the road and hit a guardrail, and I'll be awake_.  _Oh God, oh dear God_.  _Frank, I must get to Frank_.  She took the nearest exit, driving crazily, and turned back toward home.  Steering with one hand, she opened the console and dug around inside until her hands fell on the spare cell phone Donovan kept inside for emergencies.  She hoped the damn battery was still good.

*  *  *

Kit's car was a piece of shit.  It whined and wheezed like an old asthmatic dog.  The transmission also had a grinding sound that made Black Heart nervous.  It probably wouldn't make the trip back to Chicago.  Besides, she was more than certain the hospital knew they were gone, and they would have to dump the car anyway.  Black Heart knew nothing about hotwiring cars, so they would have to get one by other means.  She had used her body before, and wouldn't hesitate to use it again.  She glanced over at Bridal Babe and noticed that the chick wouldn't stop looking at those pitiful bridal magazines.  Perhaps she would rid herself of this burden before she confronted the Donovans.  This psycho bitch was a thorn in her side, a blatant liability.  She didn't have much time to fuck around.  She still had a bank account and a new identity awaiting her in Louisiana.  She would go there as soon as she rid the world of Frank and Loralei Donovan.  

Black Heart had tried to tell Bridal Babe what their next course of action would be, but she simply smiled widely and giggled.  She'd follow along with whatever she wanted.  Bridal Babe hadn't swallowed the medication Kit had given her tonight in order to be more 'lucid.'  However, she appeared to be slipping into some kind of shaky psychosis.  _If she fucks this up for me, I'm going to jerk her eyeballs out of their sockets and make her eat them_.  Shepulled over on a darkened country road and killed the headlights.  They both looked ridiculous in the baggy hospital scrubs, but there was little they could do.  Bridal Babe would never look sexy regardless of anything she did.  She was a sick, sick woman.  The two women climbed out of the car, and Bridal Babe nearly freaked out when Black Heart suggested that she leave the magazines behind.  

"No, no," she begged as she plunged into some deep psychotic pool, "I have to show them to Frankie.  He has to help me pick out the wedding dress."

Exasperated, Black Heart took Bridal Babe by the arm and dragged her toward the back of the car.  There had to be something inside that could alter the scrubs enough where they could look like 'normal' clothing.  She needed a pair of scissors, and hoped she could find some in the trunk, perhaps in a first aid kit.  However, she wasn't expecting her luck to run smoothly.  It would be too damn easy.  She popped open the trunk as Bridal Babe whirled and twirled behind her, doing some type of dance.  Sighing impatiently, she dug around in the dark interior of the trunk, throwing aside anything she didn't need.  _I could use a fucking flashlight_, she grumbled to herself.  Her hands landed on something large and solid.  It wasn't a pair of scissors, but it would prove to be very useful.

"Kelly," Black Heart called sweetly.  "Could you come here, darling?  I want to show you something."

"Of course," she giggled.  "Oh yes, of course."

As Bridal Babe approached, Black Heart swung her arm out in a wide arc.  Kelly Bartlet never knew what hit her.  Black Heart stripped off Bridal Babe's top and wiped her blood off the stained tire tool.  She would have to use it again soon, and she might even use it on the Donovans.  She stared at the heavy piece of metal for a long time.  She wondered who she should kill first.  Should she go for the man or the woman?  She giggled, thinking that Bridal Babe's insanity must be contagious.  Hadn't she had the same thought before?  Hadn't that thought crossed her mind the first time she encountered Frank Donovan and Loralei Kadin?  Oh well, those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.  Ugh.  She tossed that thought out of her mind.  She sounded like one of them.  She giggled again.  Them?  Who were they?  _Don't tell me I'm getting paranoid_.  With a grunt, she lifted Bridal Babe's prone body and struggled with her dead weight until she finally had it placed inside the trunk.  Before she slammed it shut, she grabbed the magazine the Babe had been clutching in her hand.  She would need it.  On the back, Bridal Babe had scribbled the new address of the Donovans.  She had to get moving.  She had a date to keep, and a bank account to raid.

*  *  *

The speedometer needle hung close to ninety.  Loralei hadn't gotten _that_ far out of town, but there was some type of roadblock a few miles ahead.  She could see the flashing lights of several police cruisers and a couple of ambulances.  _Dear God, I'll **never** get there in time_.  She looked down at the cell phone.  She had yet to turn it on because she was afraid.  She was almost certain that the battery would be dead.  If that were the case, she'd have no choice but to break into the middle of the roadblock and demand assistance.  Holding her breath, she stabbed the power key.  The phone had plenty of juice.  She had once scolded her husband because he was too meticulous and over prepared.  However, as she watched the phone light up, she praised those annoying quirks.  She would never complain about it again.  Her relief was short-lived.  To her sheer horror, there was no signal.  With a frustrated cry, she threw the phone down.  It was useless to her, so utterly fucking useless.  She brought the car to a jarring halt.  The police and ambulances were only a few short feet away.  There had been some type of accident, and by the look of it, no one would be getting anywhere fast tonight.  Her only hope, her only chance, was the emergency personnel ahead.  

*  *  *

Donovan stood and gazed blankly out the window.  There weren't many other steps left to take at this point.  He refused to leave, refused to go home.  Something out of the norm nagged at him.  He felt apprehensive and shaky.  He didn't like that feeling.  It normally precluded some horrible event.  It was customary for him to act on his gut instinct, and right now, he sensed that something had gone terribly wrong.  He went to the phone and dialed Rockbridge.  There was no answer, no mechanical voice telling him to hold the line.  There was nothing more than a busy signal.  He didn't like that; he didn't like that at all.  He was about to rush downstairs to bark a string of commands, but Cody's voice stopped him dead in his tracks.  The look on Cody's face was enough to tell him what had happened, but he needed to hear the words.

"Just received word, Boss," he said, sighing.  "Kelly Bartlet and Carly Butler escaped Rockbridge…"

Donovan zoned out totally.  He didn't hear the rest of Cody's sentence.  _Kelly Bartlet and Black Heart.  Together_.  It was hard to reconcile.  Outside, he maintained his usual 'ice-man' exterior.  He appeared calm and collected.  However, inside, he had to fight desperately against his impending panic.  His only saving grace was the knowledge that Loralei was safe.  He had followed his instincts.  He had sent Loralei away, and it appeared he had done so for a reason.  Had he expected this to happen?  Another thought entered his mind.  Had Loralei heard?  If she had, she would return.  _No_, he thought, _surely not_.  She had understood him.  She had left.  She wouldn't come back.  Would she?  _Would she_?

Gaining control of his emotions, he said, "They'll come looking for me and Loralei.  They know our address."  He wasn't looking at either Cody or Monica.  His eyes were focused on some object only he could see.  "Get Jake and Alex, have them come here immediately."  Without another word, he went back upstairs and grabbed the phone.  

*  *  *

Loralei ran out to the crowd of medical personnel and law enforcement.  Two police officers stood guard behind a barrier of yellow crime scene tape.  There were three or four cars smashed into each other.  She tried to get the attention of the cops standing nearby, but they weren't acknowledging her.  _Damn them_, she thought.  They had to help her.  She had to get to Donovan before it was too late.

"Listen to me," she cried.  "I need your help."  The noise was tremendous.  Her loud cry for help probably seemed no louder than a whisper to them.  She needed a bullhorn.  It would be the only way they would hear her.  "_Hey!  Goddamn it!  Listen to me!  I need your fucking help_," she screamed as loud as her vocal cords would allow.

*  *  *

_Goddamn it_.  Donovan slammed the phone back into its cradle.  He had just spoken to Loralei's mother.  They hadn't heard from her since her last call before her departure.  She should have called them by now.  Shit, she should have called _him_ by now.  He stood leaning over his desk, wondering what he could do.  Suddenly, he remembered the backup phone in the car.  She knew about it and had probably gotten it out by now.  He reached for the phone again and quickly dialed the number.  He listened to a mechanical voice telling him that the cell was in a dead zone.  Donovan slammed the phone down again, hard enough to crack the receiver.  If she had heard, he didn't doubt she would come back.  Her heart wouldn't let her stay away.  Her love for him was so deep that she wouldn't think twice about throwing herself in the mix.  He and the team would have to get to the escapees before Loralei managed to get back home.

The phone rang suddenly, shrilly.  He reached for it impatiently.  "Donovan," he spat.

Incredible, ear splitting static came over the line.  "Goddamn, this reception sucks," the voice of his wife said.  "Frank, can you hear me?"

Another burst of static issued forth.  In the background, he could have sworn he heard sirens and dozens upon dozens of strange voices.  What the fuck was going on?  "Where are you," he demanded.

"About thirty or so miles from you," she shouted over the static.  "Listen to me, Frank, Bartlet and Black Heart escaped.  I'm on my way back."

"_No_," he shouted back.  "I _will not_ let you do that, Loralei.  Your destination is Missouri, and you damn well better go.  Don't come back here.  Don't do it."

"I'm sorry, Frank.  The situation is totally different now.  I'm coming back despite what you say," she spat stubbornly.  "I can't stay away, not now."

"Goddamn it, Loralei.  _Listen to me_."  In the background, he could hear a man's voice asking for the phone, saying something that sounded like 'end the call.'  

"Sorry, I have to hang up now.  We have a situation here," the man's voice said sternly.

"Who is this," Donovan demanded.  "Identify yourself."

"Sir, I'm Trooper Harris of the state police."

He nodded.  Good.  "This is Frank Donovan.  I'm a special ops agent for the Justice Department.  I don't care if you believe that or not, I can verify it for you when I have more time.  The woman who was just on the phone _cannot_ leave.  Do what you must to keep her there, even if it means taking her into custody.  Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, but in order to hold her, your story is going to have to check out."

"It will, I assure you."  He could hear more noise in the background.  It sounded as if there were a dozen or more people arguing and yelling.  "Tell me what's going on.  Trooper Harris?  _Trooper Harris_?  Are you there?"

"She's gone, sir."

Three words.  They were very simple words, totally and completely innocent.  However, each one was like a knife going straight through Donovan's heart. 


	9. A Messy Predicament

CHAPTER 8—A MESSY PREDICAMENT

Black Heart grumbled as she walked down the deserted country road.  At any other time, on any other day, someone would have come along to pick her up.  Not _her_, not _now_.  The escape from Rockbridge had been wracked with problems.  Her first liability, of course, had been the Bridal Babe.  She had effectively rid herself of _that_ particular burden.  Once Bridal Babe was out of the way, she figured her life would be smooth sailing from here on out.  _Wrong_!  Very few cars had passed her, and none of them had stopped.  She figured it was because the state hospital wasn't that far away and their escape had probably been broadcast to the whole world by now.  She had to get out of the ridiculous scrub outfit before someone called the police.  She _would not_ go back to the mental hospital.  No way.  No how.  She would die first.  Ahead of her, she saw a few lights scattered here and there.  She was obviously approaching a town of some sort.  She hoped there was a hotel or something; perhaps she could then find some unsuspecting person with clothing and a car.  She wanted the Donovans dead by dawn.

She walked and walked and walked.  With each step, she grew more and more angry and thirsty for blood.  She also noted that the lights up ahead were, indeed, from a small motor court hotel.  _Thank God_.  She would take whatever she could find.  Less than an hour and a half separated her from her targets, and she had no intention of allowing anything to stop her now.  She felt the heavy weight of the tire tool beside her.  She had almost forgotten she had had the thing.  Black Heart would need it.  It was a nice weapon, one that brought swift death if wielded properly.  She quickened her pace as she set her sights on the dozen or so vehicles parked in front of the small hotel.  She felt that her luck was finally changing.  This would be the place.  Yes.  Here she would find what she needed and take it, even if she had to kill to get it.  Of course, she had never had any qualms whatsoever about ending a life.  Big deal.

Slowly, carefully, trying not to arouse suspicion, she casually walked past each car in the lot.  None of them had keys dangling in the ignitions.  The people around here weren't as stupid as she thought.  Yet, her plans weren't quite thwarted yet.  More than one car was unlocked.  Steeling glances all around her, she approached a compact car and tried the door.  It came open easily.  She found the mechanism that would open the hatchback and she was greeted with a couple of suitcases and a small duffel-type bag.  _Please let my luck hold out for a few seconds more_, she thought.  She went for the bag first and unzipped it slowly, holding her breath, and keeping her eyes closed tightly.  When she opened her eyes to small slits, she could see a few items of clothing inside.  Yes.  Hot damn.  Her eyes identified a couple of tee shirts and some shorts.  This stuff was probably something that a person might sleep in.  The weather was much too chilly for shorts, but beggars couldn't be choosers.  She seized the bag and closed the hatchback.  She stood behind the vehicle for a bit, deciding on which room to choose.  Someone would have car keys; someone would have her mode of escape.

Led by some type of weird intuition, she chose a door marked with the number three.  She had no idea why, but that particular number intrigued her.  It appeared to be some type of talisman.  Two had always been her lucky number, and tonight she would kill in twos or pairs.  Three.  The number three had never fascinated her.  Perhaps tonight, she would kill in threes.  Her victim at the hotel would make her third.  Once she faced the Donovans, that kill would only be two.  Who would be her third?  Jake?  She shook her head to clear out the homicidal thoughts for just a moment.  She had to get moving if she expected to finish the job on time and thoroughly.  She waltzed up to the door and knocked tentatively, as if she were a child trick-or-treating.  To her utter amazement and joy, the hotel patron was a woman so very alone.  Easy target.  She eyed the woman for a few moments, immediately noticing that her clothes would fit nicely.  Black Heart said nothing.  She entered the room and swung out wildly with the tire tool grasped firmly in her hand.  Number three.  

*  *  *

Donovan stood behind his desk for a long time after hanging up the phone.  Tonight, it had taken a beating.  Even from his vantage point several inches away, he could see the widening crack in the receiver.  _What is she thinking?  What is she doing?_  The last time she tangled with Black Heart she had nearly died and had then faced months of rehabilitation before fully recovering.  The situation had gone from bad to worse in the last couple of hours.  Not only was the Black Heart coming back, but she was also bringing along a friend.  If taken alone, Loralei wouldn't stand a chance against them.  Shrugging off his shock and anger, Donovan began to move.  He was running out of time.  He flew down the stairs and faced Cody and Monica.  He had every intention of demanding Cody's car keys to try and intercept Loralei before she made it back to the city.  The other two agents watched as Donovan's expression changed from one of extreme concern to one of recollection.  _Why didn't I think of that before_, he thought.  It was simple.  His worried focus on his wife had screwed up his senses.  He couldn't think clearly.

"Is that tracking device still in my car," he asked suddenly, focusing his eyes on Cody's face.  Cody had installed it a couple of months ago during an intense hostage situation.  They had needed it to monitor Donovan during a life and death hostage exchange.  It was the only way he could communicate with the team.  He recalled ordering Cody to tear it down two days later, but as far as he knew, the job hadn't been done.  As he stared frantically into the eyes of the younger agent, he hoped that just this once, Cody had fallen asleep at the wheel.

Not wanting to admit that he hadn't followed an order from the boss, he wasn't sure what answer Donovan expected.  He then remembered that his wife had taken his car.  Something was up.  Something bad.  "Sure, it's still there, still juiced."

Donovan wanted to kiss him, and he might have if he weren't so pressed for time.  "I need to know where the car is.  I want the exact location, no estimates.  I need to use your car again so I can intercept Loralei.  Call me when you have it."  He grabbed Cody's car keys without waiting for a 'yay' or a 'nay.'  He turned to run out the door, but then remembered something else.  "Reroute Jake and Alex to my apartment building.  Tell them to stay there and wait.  They are aware of the escapes?"

"Oh yeah.  We made sure of that," Monica said.

Donovan nodded firmly.  Without another word, he was out the door.

*  *  *

Although it would take longer than she wanted, Loralei was directed toward a detour that would take her around the accident.  She had heard Donovan's shouted orders to the state trooper.  He fully intended for her to be locked up, but there was no way she would allow that to happen.  She slipped effortlessly and silently away from the hectic mess.  Some piddly federal agent's pregnant wife was the least of the trooper's worries.  The emergency personnel were rightfully worried about the accident and the victims [_as well they should be_, she thought]; they wouldn't give her a second thought.  Of course, she had to consider the other options her husband had at his disposal.  What else could he do?  He hadn't lied when he said he had connections.  She had discovered he had them literally all over the world.  He would only have to pick up the phone, spit out his name, and she would be locked up in a drunk tank in some Podunk mid-western town.  She had been surprised that the trooper hadn't known him.  She pressed her foot to the accelerator.  Her need to get back was urgent, and she had no time to dawdle.

The cell phone beside her rang suddenly.  She had totally forgotten about it.  Easing up on the gas, she blindly groped for the tiny device that made a wickedly loud noise.  It was almost enough to split her aching head.  She flipped it open and immediately recognized the number.  _Frank_.  She came close to ignoring it, but thought better of it.  He was already set to strangle her.  

She stabbed a button and put the phone up to her ear.  "Frank, before you start yelling, would you let me explain?"

"No," he said.  "I will not.  I know where you are, and I want you to stop and wait for me.  I'm not asking, I'm _telling_ you to do it."

She was too stunned by his admission that he knew her location to even notice that he had given her an order as if she were his child instead of his wife.  "How do you know where I am?"

"You can thank Cody for that, my love.  After this is over, I intend to.  Pull over, Loralei, _now_.  I'm coming to you."

*  *  *

The woman's name was Marisol Lopez.  Ironically enough, she owned the compact car Black Heart had raided earlier.  If she had known that, she would have waited before thieving the clothing.  She decided to take the dead woman's name, but couldn't do much with her identity.  She looked nothing like her.  She cleaned up the tire tool as best as she could.  The last time she had encountered the Donovans, she had shot Agent Kadin.  This time, she didn't necessarily want to do the same thing again.  Black Heart was creative at times, and enjoyed cooking up new ways of bringing harm upon her victims.  The tire tool had served her well.  She didn't like the idea of smacking Donovan, well, at least not in the face.  He was too cute for it.  However, there were dozens of other places that would do nicely.

Black Heart threw the strap of the small bag over her shoulder and left Ms. Lopez behind.  She slid behind the wheel of the tiny car and noticed that it was fairly new.  It pleased her.  It would take her exactly where she needed to go.  When she noticed that the gas tank was full, she smiled.  A full tank of gas in this minute vehicle would last and last.  Her luck _was_ returning after all.  She stuck the key in the ignition and brought the motor to life.  She pulled out of the motor court and pointed the car in the direction of her old stomping [and hunting] grounds.  Three.  What a magical number.  She thought about making it her favorite.  

*  *  *

Alex and Jake arrived at the tall building that housed the Donovans' apartment.  They had yet to get out of the car.  Although unafraid, Jake was in no hurry.  He couldn't believe he was dealing with this crazy bitch again.  Wouldn't she _ever_ go away?  After tonight, he hoped he'd never see or have to think about her again.  Alex watched Jake curiously.  She noticed the distress in his features, noticed the taut pucker of his lips.  She had seen this before.  He was supremely pissed.  If they had just stayed at the hospital for another hour, they would have thwarted the escape, and no one's life would be in danger.  Not only that, but she was also aware of the game the Black Heart had played with Jake.  He still hadn't quite healed from that.

He looked over at her.  "Can you believe this shit, Alex?  We're right back where we left off last year.  Amazing."  He sighed deeply.  "Have you heard from Donovan," he asked into the mic.

"Nope," Cody's tinny voice answered.  "Not since he left.  Unfortunately, he didn't exactly leave wired for sound.  Let's just say he was in a tad bit of a hurry when he ran out.  I hope he doesn't wreck my car.  It's all I have left!"

*  *  *

After disconnecting the call, Loralei decided to actually listen to Donovan for once.  She pulled the car over to the side of the road.  Donovan wasn't very far from her.  The thought disturbed as much as comforted her.  He wasn't exactly happy with her right now, but she hoped he would at least understand her desire to come back.  Black Heart was just as much her fight as his.  The thought that she had teamed up with Kelly Bartlet was a frightening one.  She couldn't sit back safe and snug while her husband risked his life fighting against these evil women.  After a period of waiting, just up ahead of her, she saw a set of headlights approaching an exit toward where she had parked the car.  She was certain it would be Donovan.  She glanced up in the rearview mirror and noticed another car approaching from behind.  She attached no significance to it.  This was a busy and oft traveled highway, even on Sunday.

Black Heart saw the car ahead of her.  It was pulled over to the side of the road.  The headlights were on, so she was sure the car was in perfect working order.  She also noticed a lone figure sitting behind the wheel.  She hoped it was another woman.  She reached over to the seat beside her and felt for her tire tool.  Blessedly, it was still there.  She just might need it.  She thought long and hard about stopping, and almost came close to ignoring the urge.  But again, something was pushing her forward.  Perhaps it would be a good idea to ditch the small car and get another.  Lopez's body had probably been discovered by now.  If it hadn't, it would be discovered soon enough.

From a distance, Donovan saw the car approaching Loralei.  A blooming sense of dread spread from the pit of his stomach up to his heart where it lingered.  He kept telling himself that the person could be a concerned motorist looking out for another in need.  However, he wasn't stupid.  He rarely ignored his gut feelings, and at that point, he was certain the Black Heart had unwittingly found his wife.  

Loralei jumped in her seat as the cell phone rang.  She grabbed it and stabbed a button nervously.  Behind her, the car had slowed and was pulling over.  "Frank?"

Unconsciously, his foot pressed down onto the accelerator, he was still quite a few feet away.  "Lock the door, start the car, and get the fuck out of there.  Don't ask questions, just _do it_."

Scared out of her wits now, Loralei hit the auto locks and turned the key in the ignition.  Nothing.  The smell of gasoline was all around her.  _Oh hell_.  In her panic, she had flooded it.  She dropped the phone and couldn't hear Donovan's urgent, insistent voice.  She tried to start it again, but still nothing.  Behind her, a lone figure got out of a small compact car.  Loralei could see it was a woman, and she appeared to be carrying a tire tool.  _No.  Oh no.  Black Heart_.  Black Heart stepped up to the window and grinned when she saw the occupant inside.  She had gotten quite the surprise of her life, and it wasn't even her birthday.  

"Fancy meeting you here, Mrs. Donovan," she sneered before shattering the window with the tire tool.

Donovan came screeching up behind the other two cars and had barely had the car stopped before he threw the door open.  Ahead, he could see Loralei trying to evade her attacker as Black Heart jerked open the door.  His feet seemed mired in cement as he ran toward Loralei.  She seemed so very far away.  He didn't even realize he was calling out her name.  He watched in horror as the crazed woman dragged Loralei out of the car.  By that time, she saw Donovan approaching at a full panicked run.  She took the tire tool and held it up to Loralei's throat, effectively cutting her airflow to half of its capacity.  Dizzy now, Loralei tried to throw the witch, but she tightened her hold.  Little dots swam before her eyes.  She couldn't stand much more of the pressure.  Donovan stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed that Black Heart's grip hadn't let up.

"Come on then," Black Heart spat toward Donovan.  "Come on.  If you so much as take one more step, she's dead.  I can do it, you know."

He fixed her with a cold stare, one filled with hatred.  _I should have killed her when I had the chance_.  "Let her go.  _I_ put you where you were, not her."  He fixed an extremely pained gaze on Loralei's face.  It was growing darker by the second.  She was suffocating before his very eyes.  His heart was breaking into a billion pieces.  If he lost her now, he'd die.  He felt the heavy, satisfying weight of his pistol resting against him.  If he could squeeze a shot…

"If you reach for your gun, you bastard, I'll snap her fucking neck.  It would be really easy to do right now.  Do you want to watch your wife die?  I can arrange that!"    

"F-Frank," Loralei croaked.

How could she have the air to even speak?  He tried not to focus on her struggle for breath.  If he lost his head now, Loralei would surely die.  "Let her go, Carly, it's me you want," he spat.  It took extreme control to stay put, to dicker with this evil bitch from the deepest depths of hell.

"Go, Frank.  _Go_," Loralei managed before losing her hold on consciousness.

When Black Heart felt her victim slumping against her, she smiled.  "Poor baby all passed out.  I'm taking your permanent piece, but I just don't know where yet.  I'll keep her alive for you.  Come find her.  Find her and die with her."

Donovan made a move to rush toward them, but Black Heart saw it.  Utilizing all her strength in her wiry body, she brought the tire tool up against Loralei's throat again.  "Stand back.  I can snap her throat like twig, and I won't hesitate to do it.  Stand down, Donovan, stand down.  If you want to have your last moments with her, you'll do it."

His eyes were focused on Loralei's decidedly battered and limp body.  The urge to draw his weapon and fire it entered his mind more than once.  However, he wouldn't risk putting a bullet in his wife's body.  He couldn't do it.  There was another way out.  The car had a tracking device.  _Yes.  Take the car.  I'll find you, and when I do, I'll see to it that you never see daylight again_.

"What'cha gonna do, Donovan?  I'm waiting on baited breath," she said with a smile.  "I promise to call you when we get where we're going.  I may even let her talk to you a minute or two before I kill her.  Wanna watch me do that, or would you rather I do it right now?"

Knowing he would never forgive himself, knowing that he would never forget this night as long as he lived, he swallowed a huge lump in his throat.  "Take her," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.  _God forgive me_, he thought.

Not taking her eyes off Donovan once, Black Heart worked the auto locks and opened the back door.  She shoved Loralei's crumpled body in the backseat.  She slammed the door and stood looking toward him with the tire tool raised menacingly.  "You made a wise decision, Donovan.  I'm quite proud of you.  But I don't know how your little wifey is going to feel knowing her hubby gave up so easily."

He literally snarled at her.  He made another step toward the Black Heart.  She held the tire tool in her hand like a javelin.  It was pointed straight at Loralei's abdomen.  Donovan held his breath and gritted his teeth.  _No_.

"Naughty boy.  If I hit her hard enough, I could probably do some serious damage, maybe even cause internal bleeding.  Back off."

Struggling mightily with his rage, he stopped and again fixed a murderous glare on Black Heart.  For now, Loralei was alive.  If he acted on his impulses, she would not survive the night.  He kept remembering the tracking device in the car, and prayed that it would lead him to her.  A dull ache settled in his heart and in the pit of his stomach.  He couldn't watch, but he also couldn't tear his eyes away.  He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth as Black Heart moved to the drivers' side of the car.  She slid easily into the car and started it with no trouble.  As the car sped away, an anguished wail escaped the depths of his throat.  It was the roar of a mad man.         


	10. The Final Showdown

CHAPTER 9—THE FINAL SHOWDOWN

Donovan wasted no time.  He ran back to Cody's car and slid behind the wheel.  He revved the engine to life, probably stripping three gears in the process.  He had no time to care, no patience to ponder.  He reached across the seat and grabbed the cell phone.  "Cody, keep tracking my car.  Black Heart has Loralei."  Without waiting for a response, he snapped the phone closed and tossed it over to the seat beside him.  Black Heart was only half of his problem.  There was still Kelly Bartlet to deal with, and he wondered where she would come in during this endless psychotic game.  Loralei.  He must get to Loralei.

*  *  *

Slowly, as if from a deep coma or a thick fog, Loralei regained consciousness.  For a brief moment, she had forgotten what happened and where she was.  When her memory began to come back, Loralei kept her body low in the seat.  Slowly, she began to come around.  Black Heart had choked her and thrown her into the back seat.  _Frank_, she thought suddenly.  _What has she done to Frank_?  She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to fight away the fog.  Black Heart hadn't touched him.  He had to be behind them.  Temptation nearly forced her to sit up and peer out the back window, but remembering who her driver was, she fight the urge.  She lay still and tried not to move a muscle.  She had gotten herself in this mess, and she would get herself out.  _Why didn't I listen to Frank_, she thought.  The answer was simple.  She didn't listen because she loved him, and couldn't allow him to face these insane women alone.  Another thought entered her mind:  Kelly Bartlet.  Where was the other woman?  Were they meeting her somewhere.  As Loralei shifted her body just the slightest bit, she focused her eyes on her shoes.  She had begun to formulate a plan.

*  *  *

The cell phone beside Donovan rang.  He grabbed the phone and flipped it open.  "What do you have Cody," he demanded.

"She's heading straight for the city, Boss.  Keep due north, and you won't lose her.  Stay on the line, and I'll talk you right to her.  Jake and Alex have been summoned, and they're on their way."

He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.  "Thank you."

*  *  *

From her vantage point, Loralei couldn't exactly see Black Heart or what she was doing.  She knew that the slightest movement would draw Black Heart's attention to her, especially if she could see her in the rearview mirror.  Loralei shifted her position again and turned to her side.  She kept her eyes on the rearview mirror where she could just make out Black Heart's eyes.  She could have sworn there was no soul there, none at all.  She brought her leg up as far as she dared.  Moving was difficult in her current position.  Not only that, but the chilly night wind was blowing in furiously from the shattered window.  Every spot of exposed skin had begun to numb, and her fingers were stiff from the cold.  Her throat ached miserably and seemed swelled a bit.  The task wouldn't be easy, but she had never had a problem with stubborn persistence.  If she could just get her hand down to her shoes, she might have a chance to end this before it began.  More than likely, Kelly Bartlet waited at some remote location to assist the Black Heart in her mindless pursuit of revenge.

Black Heart's eyes were focused straight ahead.  She wasn't worried about the bitch; she would probably remain knocked out for hours.  She hoped she had actually killed the whore, but she had seen her taking shallow breaths.  It didn't matter.  She would die as soon as she found the perfect place to take her.  She had no intention of waiting for her husband to appear.  Why should she?  He had done a very noble, but stupid thing when he allowed her to take the woman.  Was he that blind?  Was he that ignorant?  He _had_ to know she would kill her.  Yet, he let her go anyway.  _So much for love and honor_, she thought.  Donovan had rather give up his old lady than sacrifice his own life for her.  _What a shame.  What a damn shame._ She laughed out loud, startling Loralei in the backseat.  Up until then, she had been tugging frantically at her shoelaces.  When she heard the dry cackle, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Loralei shivered.  It wasn't from the cold.  Black Heart's laugh was chilling and evil.  It had been nearly a year since she had last tied up with her, and those wounds were still fresh, still aching.  She waited for a few minutes before moving again.  When she was certain Black Heart wasn't going to vocalize again, she resumed tugging at her shoelaces.  Working one handed, it was rough going, and the damn lace didn't want to let go.  She still had to pull the string out of the shoe and hoped that she'd free it in time.  At that point, she had no idea where Black Heart planned to take her.  Her heart raced madly as she finally managed to undo the tight loop.  She hoped her luck would hold out a few moments longer.

*  *  *

Donovan kept his ear glued to the phone as he weaved in and out of traffic following Cody's exact directions.  Every turn Black Heart took, he matched it.  He stayed a safe distance behind so as not to arouse her suspicions.  His greatest fear was that Black Heart would see him.  If she did, he didn't doubt that she would murder his wife and unborn child without hesitation.  Of course, he wasn't naïve enough to believe that Black Heart intended to keep Loralei alive any longer than necessary.  His wife was Black Heart's leverage, and she intended to use it to draw him in, to lead him to her partner, and eventually to his death.  He realized that the widow was crafty enough to know that he would not stay away.  The longer the odyssey stretched out, the more frustrated Donovan became.  If he lost sight of the car, he would never see his wife again.  He listened to Cody's instructions and blocked them out all at the same time.  His voice had taken on a seemingly droning quality.  _North.  Northwest.  Veering toward exit 45._  It went on and on.  He held onto his sanity and his focus.  He could not zone out again.

*  *  *

Loralei worked the shoestring loose, finally pulling it free.  She would have very little time to carry out her plan.  There would be one chance.  She could not screw this up.  Black Heart glanced up at the rearview mirror.  She kept her eyes locked on it for an undetermined amount of time.  She saw something very disturbing and strange.  There appeared to be a car following along behind her.  She took an exit on purpose just to see if the car followed.  She smiled a little when it hung right with her.  _Tricky tricky_, she thought.  The bitch's husband had decided to ride in on his white horse.  This was not such good news for the bastard's wife.  He had to be idiot following her.  How had he kept up with her?  She didn't understand.  When she peeled away from the scene, she had left him standing.  Yet, he had caught up with her.  In the passenger's seat, she noticed a cell phone.  She wondered if Donovan's number was in it.  She knew he would have a cell phone.  Men like him couldn't live without them.

*  *  *

Cody's droning voice was interrupted by a series of short clicks.  _Call waiting_, he thought.  _What the fuck_?  He took the phone away from his ear and glanced at it.  The caller id/call waiting flashed an incredible number:  the spare cell phone.  Without hesitation, he hit a button to divert Cody for a moment.  "What do you want," he spat, instantly knowing who it was.

"You prick, I'm not stupid.  I know you're following me.  Don't you think I know that trick?  It's the oldest one in the book.  I'm sorry to say that I'm disappointed in you, baby.  I thought you'd try something more original than that.  Get back.  I'll contact you when I need you.  I swear, I'll pull over and finish the job right now.  You wouldn't catch me before I ended it.  Tire tools can crush skulls in no time.  I've experimented with it tonight, so I know."

Distracted now by the phone, Loralei knew it was her chance to get at the Black Heart.  If she didn't move now, she'd never move at all.  She sprang suddenly to life, popping up in the backseat as if she were some maniacal 'Jack-in-the-Box.'  She held the shoelace taut in her hands and brought it up and around Black Heart's throat.  Completely taken by surprise, Black Heart's hands flew off the steering wheel, and the phone fell onto the floor.  

Donovan heard the struggle from his end of the phone, and he could see the car swerving this way and that.  He prayed that the car wouldn't burst head-on into the rapidly passing cars.  Horrified, he began yelling into the phone, ordering Loralei to stop, but she wouldn't listen, _couldn't_ listen.  She appeared to have gotten the upper hand, but again, he was not naïve, nor was he hopeful.  He knew what was going to happen, and there was no true way to stop it.  He could only pray that Loralei wouldn't be harmed.  Without hesitating, he switched back to Cody and instructed him to summon an ambulance.  He feared that they would need it before long.  Up ahead, the car began to spin out of control.  His heart stopped as it rapidly turned a full 360 degrees at least three times.  At such a high speed, it was sure to roll over.  The car spun crazily one more time before eventually sliding into a shallow culvert at the side of the highway.  The headlights faced the oncoming traffic.  Donovan let up on the gas and slammed his foot hard on the brakes.  The tires squealed wickedly, leaving rubber for several miles.  The anti-lock brakes took hold and the car finally came to a jarring halt.  Working on automatic now, Donovan drew his weapon and ran toward the car.  He didn't notice an approaching SUV that sliced over the median as if were nothing.  Backup had arrived.

Donovan heard a loud crashing noise followed by slight movement coming from the passenger side of the car.  Regardless of who was climbing out, he held his weapon up and kept the figure in his sight.  To his left, Alex and Jake had crouched in similar stances.  He hadn't noticed them; he couldn't.  His mind was focused on the body extracting itself from the car.  He drew his face into a vicious snarl as he recognized the person freeing herself.  Black Heart.  She had not come out unarmed.  She wielded the tire tool, ready to strike.  To his utter disappointment, she seemed unharmed.  Incredibly, she was smiling.  Her smile was one of tremendous victory.  He heard shouts coming from his team, yelling for Black Heart to drop the tire tool.  Of course, she wouldn't.  She didn't intend to give up, not now, not ever.  She raised the piece of steel and did exactly what Donovan hoped she'd do.  She began rushing toward him, with every intention of throttling him.  He called out a command for her to stop, but she did not listen.  Without hesitating a nanosecond, Donovan did what he had been trained to do when faced with a direct threat.  He put a bullet right between her eyes.  She stopped as if she were surprised she'd been shot.  In her last few seconds of life, she stared at Donovan, cursing him for killing her, for ending her reign.  He wasted no time tending to Black Heart.  He left her for Alex and Jake.  He holstered his weapon and ran toward the car.

He peered into the smashed window and saw Loralei's body huddled against the far end of the car.  Her face was turned away, almost buried in the seat.  He didn't know if she were alive or dead.  His mind played back to her last battle with Black Heart.  He couldn't believe he was experiencing the same emotions, the same terror as he had before.  Donovan tried to open the door, but had little success.  It had apparently jammed shut and wouldn't budge.  The noise hadn't roused her at all.  _Please, God, no.  Don't take her from me now_.  He leaned into the car as far as he dared.  Her body was just out of his reach.

"Loralei?  Baby?  Wake up.  Look at me, Loralei.  _Open your eyes and look at me_," he demanded.  He held his breath and watched as her body stirred just the slightest bit.  He hoped that she had sustained nothing more than a concussion, but he was certain her injuries were far worse than that.  "Come on, Loralei.  I can't reach you.  Give me your hand, my love.  Can you do that for me?"

At first, Loralei thought she was dreaming.  She thought she had simply gone to sleep and had a horrible nightmare.  This wasn't really happening to her.  It was happening in some bizarre, vivid dream world that refused to release her.  However, as she came out of her daze, her body was a mass of pain.  Every muscle, every bone screamed in protest at her unnatural position.  This was no dream.  The only stable thing, the only _good_ thing about all this was hearing Donovan's voice.  She focused her foggy eyes on his face.  Yes.  She could see him clearly.  He was right there.

"Baby," he whispered harshly.  "Can you move?"

She managed to nod her head.  A swarm of fuzzy dots attacked her, and for a moment, she thought she would pass out.  After a moment, the dots went away, and she began to regain her lucidity piece by painstaking piece.  She could move.  She didn't think there was anything wrong with her arms or legs.  Nothing appeared to be broken.  There were dozens of sprains and muscle strains, but she had no trouble moving.  To prove her point, she reached out to Donovan, groped for him.  He took hold of her, and she felt tears filling her eyes.  She was so close to him that she could feel the scratchy sensation of his facial hair and smell his cologne.

"Hold onto me," he said.  "I must get you out of here, but I need your help if you can."

Loralei had no trouble holding onto him.  That was the easy part.  Helping him was a bit more difficult.  The horrible sensation of pins and needles prickled down her arms, legs, and feet.  Her limbs had apparently fallen asleep during her tight crouch against the door.  She felt Donovan's strong arms pulling her forward as her own body tried to assist him.  She felt the tingling sensation of being lifted into the air.  Once her feet touched the ground, her legs buckled beneath her, but Donovan was there to catch her before she fell.  He tried to lift her up, but she wouldn't let him.  His supporting arm was good enough.  Her mind began to get clearer and sharper.  She stopped walking for a moment as she focused her eyes on Black Heart's body.  She tore her eyes away from her and focused them on Donovan's face.  When his eyes met hers, he thought she was going to say something about Black Heart.  However, he instantly shoved that thought aside when he read the panic in them.  The baby.  During her painful extraction from the car, she hadn't noticed the cramping pain in her middle.  She became sharply aware of it the instant she went into her husband's arms.

"No, Frank," she cried, "God no!"

Without waiting for her to say one word, without caring if she protested or not, he lifted her body into his arms.  There was no time to wait for an ambulance.  

Jake tore his eyes away from the body of the Black Heart and noticed Donovan racing Loralei toward the SUV.  "Stay here and finish this," he said to Alex.  "I'll take them to the ER."  He ran up to Donovan and opened the back door.  "Stay with her back here, I'll drive," he said.

Donovan was in no shape to argue.  He placed Loralei into the backseat gently and climbed in after her.  Jake closed the door behind them and didn't hesitate to jump to the front.  Bringing the engine to life with a roar, Jake glanced into the rearview mirror.  Donovan had cradled Loralei's body against his.  Her face was buried in the hollow between his throat and shoulder.  She clutched at her abdomen and softly cried 'nononono.'  He watched as Donovan's hand fell atop hers.  He began to whisper quietly to his wife.  Jake didn't even attempt to decipher Donovan's words.  In that moment, Jake understood more than he wanted.  He peeled out onto the highway and pointed the SUV toward the nearest ER.

*  *  *

Jake sat in the ER waiting room thumbing through a magazine.  It had been at least two hours since Loralei and Donovan were taken back.  He had received a couple of phone calls, and wasn't sure if the news he had received was good or bad.  He supposed it was a little of both.  He wanted to broach the subject with Donovan.  He needed to know, but he also didn't want to elbow in on what appeared to be a very sticky situation.  Jake had never seen the boss such an emotional wreck.  It was a first.  Of course, he remembered when Donovan briefly went rogue, but it was nothing like this.

He looked up as Donovan entered the room.  The look on his face indicated that the news was bad.  "How is she," Jake asked.

Absently, Donovan ran his hand over the nape of his neck.  "She-ah," he spat, his voice breaking a bit.  He cleared his throat and tried again, "She lost the baby."  Jake started to say something, perhaps to simply utter 'I'm sorry,' but Donovan held up his hand.  "No," he said.  "I'm not leaving her tonight.  I trust that you can fill my shoes for a couple of days?"  Jake nodded and tried to speak again.  "Wait," he said.  "Find Kelly Bartlet.  I don't care how long it takes."

"Donovan, we don't have to worry about Kelly Bartlet.  Apparently, the widow murdered her.  They found her body stuffed in the trunk of a car about an hour or so outside Rockbridge."

He nodded.  There was a sad, vacant look in his eyes.  "Thank you," he said.  "For everything."  He then turned away and walked back toward the triage where his wife awaited him.

*  *  *

Donovan had never thought he would be at Loralei's side in another hospital room.  He didn't want to make comparisons to the time before, but he couldn't help it.  Tonight, her body had taken a beating, and there was no chance that her pregnancy could have withstood the damage.  About twenty minutes ago, she had cried herself to sleep.  She would only be in the ER for another hour or so before a room could be prepared.  The hospital would hold her no more than a day to monitor the slight concussion she had sustained.  She would recover, but the mental anguish would haunt them both for a long time.  As he had done so many months previously, he took one of her hands in both of his and held it up to his lips.

"How you must hate me," she said suddenly, groggily.

He looked up at her and shook his head.  "Hate you?  Why would I hate you?"

"If I had listened to you, if I had gone on to my parents as you asked, I wouldn't-" she spat through her tears, "wouldn't have lost the baby."

He went to her bedside and took her into his arms.  He cradled her head to his chest.  "No, Loralei," he whispered.  "You went through too much in the last couple of days, and your body couldn't take it.  Don't do this, don't blame yourself.  I don't hate you.  I will never hate you.  I love you.  Do you understand?  _I love you_.  I will always love you.  We will have a baby.  It wasn't time for us right now."

Suddenly remembering something else, she drew away from him.  Her eyes were filled with tears as she searched his face.  A look of horror had etched cruel lines in her face.  "Frank?  What about the other one?  Kelly Bartlet?"

He brushed a sweaty lock of hair off her brow.  He shook his head and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.  "Don't worry about her.  She's gone."

At first she didn't believe him.  Was he protecting her again?  "Gone?"

"Yes, love, gone.  She was another of Black Heart's victims," he said softly.

Her unshed tears began to fall out of her eyes, and were swiftly replaced with newer ones.  Since being admitted into the ER, she had shed a river of tears, but still she had more.  "Like our baby?"  She went willingly into his embrace.  "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm so damn sorry," she cried against his chest.

Donovan closed his eyes.  His own heart ached so very fiercely, and he felt every ounce of pain radiating from her body.  He took it all in and held onto her tightly.  "No, Loralei.  Don't.  Please don't.  There is nothing for you to be sorry about.  _Nothing_."

She wasn't convinced, and wouldn't be convinced for weeks to come.      


	11. Epilogue Unexpected Guests

EPILOGUE—UNEXPECTED GUESTS

Three months passed, and the Donovans' grief abated to a dull ache.  They moved on, they lived, but every now and then, when Loralei thought Donovan wasn't looking, he would see a dark shadow creep across her face.  She had tried to make her pain her own, but of course, he wouldn't have that.  He never had, not where she was concerned.  There was very little they hadn't experienced together, and this was no exception.  On those occasions when her features seemed to darken, he would do nothing more than hold her.  No words were ever exchanged during those embraces.  It wasn't necessary.  Their thoughts were broadcast, each to the other.  Loralei had her distractions.  She began working on her Ph.D. that spring.  She threw herself into her work, and burnt gallons of midnight oil.  She was pushing herself quite hard, but that was one thing he allowed without interference.  Each person dealt with grief in his/her own way.  He wouldn't begrudge her that, because he often found that he pushed himself a bit harder than necessary.  

Very late one night, Donovan slipped into the darkened apartment.  He wasn't even sure what time it was, but it seemed as if he had been working seventy-two hours nonstop.  The only light in the entire place was coming from a small lamp in the bedroom.  Donovan glanced over at the desktop computer Loralei insisted on buying when she began school.  She had apparently forgotten to turn it off.  The screensaver had kicked on, and scrolling text swirled and whirled at every corner of the monitor.  It said:  _I loves me some Frank Donovan_.  He grinned a little and shook his head.  The night she had created the screensaver text, she had giggled like a child.  It was her exuberance he loved most of all.  He moved past the computer and crept into the bedroom.  He expected her to be asleep among a pile of books, which was how he normally found her.  Tonight was no exception.  

Carefully, quietly, he approached the bed and began to dig her out of the pile.  He stacked each book neatly on the floor by her bedside.  She was still clutching a thick volume in her hands, and taking this from her without waking her would be next to impossible.  _Oh well_.  He didn't mind, and he didn't think she'd mind, either.  Occasionally on the nights he wrenched her books from her hands, they'd end up tangled in the sheets.  Somewhat a nervous sort, she'd rise up and gasp before throwing her arms around him, where she'd subsequently drag him down to the bed.  After that, well, it was best left to the imagination.

Donovan leaned forward and grasped the book she clutched protectively against her chest.  Instead of her usual gasp and curse, she opened her eyes and smiled up at him lazily.  "What?  You're not going to attack me," he asked, feigning disappointment.

Loralei stretched and yawned dramatically.  "Come here," she said as she crooked her finger at him.

He smiled a little.  "You're mocking me now," he asked.  "Very naughty."  After kicking off his shoes and socks, he climbed onto the bed and gently lowered his body on top of hers.  

Their lips met briefly only to meet again with passionate abandon.  Her arms came around his waist and she worked her hands in and under his sweater.  His skin was warm and inviting, smooth and taut.  He broke the kiss just long enough to lean up and assist her with the removal of his sweater.  His hair was all mussed and corkscrewed, reminding her crazily of 'Dennis the Menace,' and she couldn't resist laughing helplessly.  He immediately knew what had turned on her giggle box, and he smiled down at her before cutting off her laughs with a passionate kiss.  Her hands moved down to his belt buckle, and she worked it loose.  He broke the kiss and drew away a little so that she could open his slacks.  She had just a bit of trouble working the zipper down.

"What do you do," she asked astonished.  "Glue them shut to torment me?"

His smile returned.  "Nope.  There's a trick to it, a trick that you have yet to learn."  Amused, she watched as he drew the zipper down with ease.  "See," he said with a lifted eyebrow.

"Show off," she grumbled as she worked her hands inside his opened pants.  

He came down on top of her again and began nuzzling her throat, nipping and biting.  Settling his body between her parted thighs, she began the task of shucking down his slacks and briefs.  Half of his delectable ass was exposed when he suddenly shifted his body.  His hands had found the thin straps of her nightgown, and he was pulling them down, exposing her shoulders and the first hint of her breasts.

Loralei groaned a little.  "You don't play fair, do you, Donovan," she asked, frustrated that her task of undressing him had been interrupted.

"No, not always," he said, drawing away once again to gaze down at her.  "You are naked underneath this thing, aren't you?"

"Duh.  What do you think?"

"I think I really love you, I think I really want you."

"If that's true," she said, mocking the great Donovan eyebrow lift, "would you please take off your fucking pants?  If you don't want to, would you at least let me do it?"

He laughed.  "I won't stop you, I promise."

After a moment or two of persistent tugging and pushing, she finally managed to free his body of his remaining clothing.  When his naked body came back down atop hers, she was suddenly and graciously enveloped by his warmth, scent, and taste.  He didn't bother removing her flimsy nightgown.  It was hardly a barrier to his burgeoning lust.  Tonight, it seemed a little different than before.  He felt extreme fevered impatience.  He didn't want to take time out to do anything.  All he wanted was to plunge into her, to lose himself, to let everything go.  It was exactly what he did; it was exactly what she wanted.

*  *  *

Toward morning, Loralei emerged from the bathroom and peeked out into the bedroom.  Uncharacteristically for Donovan, he was still asleep.  Normally, he was up by the crack of dawn, trying to coax her out of bed.  She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his body still overtaken by slumber.  _Thank God_.  If he was asleep, he hadn't heard her.  She had been very careful the last couple of weeks not to disturb him.  A couple of times during that two-week span, he had left before she had awakened.  When he began to stir a little, she slid back into bed and went into the arms that seemed to automatically reach for her in the morning.

"Where were you," he asked sleepily.  He had yet to open his eyes.  Perhaps he would stay home today.  As he buried his face into her soft, soft hair, staying home became more appealing.

"Nowhere special," she said with a smile that he could not see.  "Aren't you going in today?"

"No.  I'm taking the day off.  I think they can make it without me one day," he said.

"Darling, your ego is showing again," she said.

"Mmmm, I know," he said as he began to sink back into a doze.

"Frank," she called softly, leaning over him.

"Yes, love?"

"I'm late."

Half asleep, the phrase didn't hit him right away.  "For what," he asked.

"You know, _late_ late, you big dope," she said, fighting her impending guffaws with all she had in her.  "I'm late, and I've been feeling quite yucky."

The words finally managed to penetrate his sleeping brain.  His eyes opened wide.  "You're late," he asked stupidly.

"Yeah," she said, feigning impatience.  "Late _and _yucky, just like before."

He stared at her, stunned and confused at the same time.  "Late _and_ yucky?  Like before?"

She rolled her eyes.  "What are you?  A parrot?  Yes, I'm late.  Yes, I feel yucky.  Yes, it was like before."

"You need to see a doctor, Loralei, today," he said.

She sighed a little.  "I don't want to do that yet."  They had been trying to get pregnant again almost immediately after Loralei recovered.  They had had a couple of false alarms.  "I want to check it out before I go.  I'd prefer to do it here rather than go to a doctor.  I want it to be a private thing, just between us.  Okay?  If it's negative, you're the only one who will see the disappointment."

He leaned up and kissed her lips very gently.  "Okay."

Later, Loralei stood staring at the plastic stick looking thingies with the confusing tiny windows and lines.  She hadn't used one of these things before and didn't think she knew what she was doing.  She had even bought two other identical tests just to be sure she hadn't screwed up any of them.  To her, every test appeared to read negative.  _This is nuts_, she thought.  _How the hell are you supposed to know_?  These tests weren't as easy to read as the TV ads said they were.  Irritated, she intended to call the companies that made them and bitch them out.

Donovan came up behind her and glanced over her shoulder.  _Three of them_, he thought incredulously.  "So?"

She sighed.  "I don't know, babe, I think it's a false alarm.  Look."  

She passed each of the sticks to him, and he examined them carefully.  He shook his head and grinned a little.

"What," she said.  "What are you smiling about?"

He placed the three tests back on the bathroom counter.  He then wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him.  "Loralei, my love, I think you're confused.  If you have two lines, it's positive.  You have three positive tests."

"Are you sure?  I thought two lines meant negative."

He released her a moment and dug one of the discarded boxes out of the wastebasket.  "See?"

She took the box from his hands and peered at the back of it stupidly.  She grabbed one of the sticks and held it up against the box.  "Oh shit," she spat.  "I'm pregnant?"

He took the box from her hands and set it aside.  "I'm no doctor."  He tapped his chin thoughtfully.  "But there is an actor on some television show who kind of looks like me, and he plays a surgeon or something.  Anyway, you have three positive tests, Loralei, and it's probably safe to say you're pregnant." 

*  *  *

Loralei sat behind her computer.  She had been trying to write a paper for her criminological theory class, but she was stumped.  The words had seemed to flow from her for a good hour or so, but now, she was stuck.  _Perhaps I'm just tired_, she thought.  She glanced down at the little clock at the right side of her monitor, and it showed half past ten.  It wasn't _that _late, but she was exhausted.  She saved her paper, but didn't immediately shut down the computer.  She backed away from the desk and stretched.  Her eyes were tired and her head thumped a little.  She had been staring at the damn computer monitor too long.

Donovan came up behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders.  He allowed them to slip down her arms before they settled onto her increasingly rounding middle.  Today marked the beginning of her fifth month.  "I think the two of you need to get some rest."

She sighed and placed her hands over his.  "Pretty soon, I won't be able to fit behind this desk."

"You know," he said with a smile, "there is a history of twins in my family."

"Uh uh," she sighed.  "Don't even go there, unless you want to quit your job and become a stay-at-home daddy.  I wouldn't mind having two children, but I'd like them _one_ at a time."

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her temple.  "Turn off the computer and get to bed."

She stood before him and planted her hands on her hips.  "You sure have become quite bossy in the last three months," she said.

"I know," he said with a smile.  "But when have you known me _not_ to be bossy?"

"Darlin,' you do have a point," she said before turning toward the computer to shut it down.

Just as the monitor popped off, the doorbell rang.  Loralei glanced at Donovan.  "Are you expecting company," she asked.

"No," he said.  "It's probably somebody lost."

She shrugged and approached the door.  She stood on tiptoe and peered out the peephole.  Their guest knocked her back.  She couldn't believe what she was seeing.  Normally cautious, Loralei wouldn't dare just throw open the door before knowing who it was, but she couldn't help it.  She unlocked the door and swung it open.  Standing before her dressed in a crisp white button down shirt and blue jeans was a man so like her husband it was as if Donovan's face had been plastered onto another man's body.  There were only a few differences.  The man at the door had very long wavy black hair that fell to his shoulders.  Instead of a goatee, he had a neatly trimmed beard and mustache.

Donovan came around to where his wife stood aghast.  He stared into the face of a man he hadn't seen in almost a year and a half, Farron, his twin brother.       

**THE END?????  MAYBE?????**


End file.
